


The Pretender

by SophiaAnne



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaAnne/pseuds/SophiaAnne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys is the son of a traitor and one of the most notorious of Camelot’s young and wealthy.  But that all changes the day he meets Arthur Pendragon, and learns the truth about his father.  Now Merlin must decide - is he willing to risk it all or will he go on being the pretender?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pretender

Prologue:  And So It All Begins

 

_Her legs felt weak as a newborn colt, as though they would collapse beneath her at any moment as she struggled to the summit of the hill with her precious burden.  The unrelenting fury of the storm had chased her across the waters, and its violence showed no evidence of abating.  It was a sign, she knew, of what she must do to restore the balance._

 

_The sacred gardens that encircled the stones, once pristine, bore evidence of the destruction of the wind and rain that blanketed the island.  If all were well, the circle should stand as an unbroken eye in the center of the tempest, its strength ancient and older than any of them.  But instead part of the sacred circle was unbalanced, the stones toppled to create an opening in the continuity of the ring.  She dropped to her knees at the entrance, arms trembling with the effort as she lowered the body to the ground._

 

_What source of strength had enabled her to carry him, she wasn’t sure, but time was growing short.  Tonight, before the moon sank below the horizon, she must carry out the task she’d been given, that she’d seen in her dreams, to restore the balance._

 

_The herbs worked as they ought, rendering the form at her feet still as a stone.  With a deep breath, she dragged him the last few steps and managed to hoist the body onto the central altar.  The sky was tightening with the coming of morning.  She had so little time left._

 

_She paused for a moment, staring at the man now laid out before her.  He was her counterpart, and they’d been mistaken before for siblings, their fair skin and dark hair so alike.  Their talents had been recognized so young, and they’d been taken together into the cloisters.  He’d been her playmate, friend, and only companion for many of those years, until they came of age and grew into their duties._

 

_Why had he not held to their vows?  They were bound to the Isle, and it came before all else.   And it had fallen to her to ensure that he held to that blood oath._

 

_The edge of the stone dagger was jagged, the sharp points like teeth tearing and ripping the flesh of her palm, as she tested it.  Rolling him to his side, she tilted his head back, unnerved as one eye slid open, regarding her._

 

_“Morgana, what have you done?”  he asked in voice dry with disuse._

 

_“What must be,” she replied.  She laid down the knife, running her hand over his face and closing his eyes as she murmured a few words.  She had little power to expend, but she could render him senseless for a few more minutes, enough for him to not experience pain.  For what he had once meant to her, she would offer him that small mercy._

 

_His body slumped again, and she raised the knife.  The throat would be easiest, the blood would flow freely, but it should be the heart.  Heart’s blood was what the Isle demanded.  Closing her eyes, she lifted her dagger, soundlessly murmuring the words to bless the instrument.  It was time._

 

_She steadied herself against the altar, hands clasped together over the dagger blade, and plunged downward._

 

_“Morgana!”_

 

_The scream rent the air, louder than the howl of the wind, startling her and she knew that her aim was not quite true as the tip entered the flesh beneath her.  The crimson of blood began to well nonetheless, faster than the rain could wash it away.  It was done._

 

_She turned, lifting her hand to halt the man who now stood in the door of the circle.  “This is a sacred space.  You may not enter, Arthur.  He is gone now.”_

 

_She saw his eyes track past her, saw him take in the body lying there, drenched in blood and water.  He tried to push the circle’s door and she laughed at his futile attempts.  Caught in her delight, she failed to notice as he disappeared from the door, reappearing on the other half of the circle where the stones had fallen.  Before she could move, he had stepped through the breach and was upon her, the blade of his sword at her throat._

 

_“Why?” he asked, his face a mask of hatred and despair.  “He never harmed you.”_

 

_“He failed his people,” she spat back in his face.  “He was too enchanted with his fair lover, with you,” she screamed, jerking out of his embrace and placing the altar between them as he slipped in the mud, “to do his duty and protect the Isle as he had sworn.”_

 

_She noted his distraction as he looked for the first time at Merlin’s body.  There was still the faintest rise and fall of his chest, but the blood on his lips meant he would be gone soon.  She was drained now, from the long night, the abduction of Merlin from the decadant splendor of the palace in Camelot, fleeing across the sea, her fellow priestesses lost to the guards and the ocean waves that had nearly submerged their small craft, leaving her to bring his body here, to this most sacred place.  She knew Arthur would likely kill here now, but her blood would only add provide additional salve to the Isle._

 

_But not before she cast the interloper into the sea where he belonged._

 

_She gathered herself, reaching for the dagger buried in Merlin’s chest, and wrenching it free.  She began to move, swaying back and forth and chanting beneath her breath as she called the wind.  Exhausted though she was, within the sacred circle, her powers were still functioning, and she watched as Arthur was buffeted back.  She followed, wielding the dagger in a show of force as she let the elements do her will.  He clutched his sword, the initial confusion on his face fading as she saw understanding dawn there.  Merlin had no doubt shared demonstrations of his powers with his lover, so she knew that he was aware that, here at least, he was the helpless one, his sword and shield unlikely to carry the day as it might in Albion, barren of magic as it was._

 

_Her hand raised, she backed him slowly from the circle, though her strength was fading fast.  The circle marked the highest point of the island, and the cliff just beyond plunged in a sheer drop to the sea.  If she could just get him to the edge, it would be done.  She could rest and join Merlin on the altar._

 

_Arthur stumbled back nearly to the edge of the opening in the stones and she followed, feeling as though she were pushing at a mighty fortress wall to keep him moving.  He was leaning in now, but she could feel the slide, his inability to find purchase as he was pushed closer to the edge. She reached the edge of the circle herself, noting with satisfaction that he was only a few feet from the edge as she prepared for a final burst of power.  He was on her before she realized it, his sword tip at her throat and she realized that he’d lured her from the circle’s safety, playing the wounded bird._

 

_As the sharp of the steel pressed against the flesh of the upper slope of her breast, centered over her heart, she closed her eyes and lunged forward, feeling the dagger slide into the gap of his chain mail as her own heart was punctured._

__ _ _ __

 

_Arthur gasped and jerked back, hand covering the wound she’d inflicted.  His sword had pierced true, and he knew she was dead, but in his anger he could not prevent himself from showing the body to the cliff’s edge, watching it fall.  Staggering with pain, he lurched back to the circle._

 

_As he knelt beside the altar, he found Merlin staring at him, some sliver of consciousness still lingering.  “You came for me.”_

 

_“As I said I would.”_

 

_“And she’s dead?”_

 

_“She is.” Arthur clutched Merlin’s hand, cold from the rain and loss of blood in his.  “Can you heal yourself?  What can be done? Tell me and I will do it.”_

 

_Merlin stared heavenward as the storm clouds began to roll away, revealing traces of the sky that was now tinged with the pink of morning. “It is a fatal wound, Arthur.  With the dagger she used, here in this circle, I cannot heal myself from a wound such as that.”_

 

_He turned his head, his nose brushing against Arthur’s hair from where he had bowed beside him.  “I can try to heal you, though I don’t know if it is possible.”_

 

_“My place is with you, as we vowed to each other,” Arthur replied._

 

_“Then I have one final request.”  Merlin rose, with a strength Arthur would have thought impossible, though his face bore the paleness and pain of one whose minutes were numbered. “To the south, there is a cave of crystal, hidden to most, which has always been a place of retreat for me.  I would like to take my final rest there.”  He reached and touched Arthur’s face.  “With you by my side.”_

 

_“Then is shall be,” Arthur replied._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1: Are You Ready?

 

Arthur was unsure if the feeling in his stomach was nausea or eagerness as he grasped the smooth aluminum handle of the entrance to Excalibur.  He’d practically grown up in this place, but he’d never been absent from it for so long before.  

 

Eight months.  Eight months that had rearranged his whole life and some of those closest to him.  Today was supposed to be the return to the new normal.  He just wasn’t sure yet what that was.  Arthur pulled open the door and walked in, smile on his face, as he did a quick survey of the open space and cataloged what he needed to know.

 

“Susy, how are you?” he asked.  He walked confidently towards the  main reception desk and leaned across it.  “Ready to put me out of my misery yet and run off with me?”

 

His father had always liked to have a pretty face be the first thing someone saw when they entered.  Fostered an air of conventionality, he’d said.  Arthur supposed everyone liked a bit of eye candy.  Even old Gaius, if he’d keep sweet Susy up here.  

 

She gave him a look under her lashes. “I don’t believe my eyes.  Arthur Pendragon, just as gorgeous as ever.  And you never stop do you?  Such a flirt.”

 

He gave her a small wink.  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”  He waited for it.

 

“I’m afraid I’m taken, Arthur.”  She waggled her fingers at him, showing off the glistening rock there.  It was her third, no maybe fourth, that Arthur could recall seeing her wear.  Susy was a serial fiancée who liked the attention of engagements.    “You being gone so long, can’t expect a girl to wait.”  Her face froze, clearly remembering the where and why he’d been gone.  Even the sanitized version would give someone pause, what with the near dying and the actual dying involved.  “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

 

“Now, Susy, none of that,” he replied.  “I was told you’d have my new badge.  And some place for me to park myself for the time being,”

 

“Absolutely.”  Suddenly all business, she clicked away at her computer.  “Leon said you could take Jones’s office.  Third floor, two doors down from the elevator.  He’s new, but off on a family holiday to the coast.  I’ll let Leon know you’re here.”  She fished in a drawer.  “And here’s your badge.”

 

“Fantastic.  You tell that fiancee he’s a lucky man.”

 

“Go on with you,” she replied, cheeks pinking as Arthur headed towards the elevator.  “Have a good day, Arthur.  And welcome back.”

____

 

The badge and retinal scan had gotten him access to the third floor without incident, and he’d barely seated himself in the desk chair, giving it a half turn for the hell of it, when Leon’s head popped in the door.

 

“Hello, stranger.”

 

“You saw me last weekend, Leon,” Arthur replied.

 

“Yes, but that was Weekend Arthur.  Not Work Arthur,” Leon replied.  “How are you feeling?”

 

Arthur crossed his arms.  “I officially ban that question.  I am fine.  I have passed every medical exam and psych eval known to man, and I was re-certified for weapons yesterday.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Leon asked, gesturing to his side. 

 

“No, Leon.  It does not hurt.  That was what all that time in hospital was for, if you recall.  Stitching up the bits so they’d mend themselves up again.  I’m not in pain, I’m not depressed, and I’m not crazy, unless you count the inactivity, which is about to send me round the bend.”  He got to his feet and paced over to the bulletin board hanging on the opposite wall.  Someone had tacked up a newspaper print of the Albion flag, a crayon drawing of a flower and butterfly, a small school picture of a gap toothed girl in pigtails.  Definitely a desk jockey's office.  It made him feel claustrophobic.

 

He turned abruptly.  “So what’s my new assignment?  If you try to give me some white file, like the newbies, I’ll walk at the door.”  White files were old cases, already solved and closed out, that they occasionally used for training and it was just like Leon to try to slip him one of those to ease him back in to things.

 

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting off that easy.  You’ve been sitting around on your arse for nearly six months, now.  We’re going to get some real work out of you.” Leon grinned and glanced at the clock.  “Let’s head upstairs and you’ll find out.  Gaius should be ready for us.”

 

Arthur had known he’d probably see Gaius at some point today, but he hadn’t expected his assignment to involve a meeting with the Director himself.  The feeling in his stomach started to smooth out.  He was going to be back in the field, doing something that mattered soon.  It would be just what he needed.

 

He followed Leon down the hallway and into the elevator, riding up to the highest floor.  Everything was a bit nicer there, as Arthur had observed higher floors often were.  Thicker carpet muffled their footfalls, and actual offices replaced the warren of cubicles they’d left behind.  The double set of doors at the end of the hallway bearing the official logo of the unit and the director’s name drew the eyes.

 

He’d walked this hall for years, since he was five years old.  Although then it had been his father’s name on the door, and every walk down that hall had felt like he was stepping in someone else’s footsteps.  He’d been raised with expectations that he would take that path - field agent, establish a stellar record, move to head up one of the subunits, then eventually head up Excalibur when his father retired.  And though he loved the work, always had, he’d never wanted to end up with his name on the door.

 

He supposed he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.  No matter what his father might want.  Had Gaius not been appointed director, he doubted he’d be so lucky as to still have a job as an agent.

 

Leon gave a soft knock, and then led the way inside.

 

“Arthur, my boy, it’s so good to see you back.”  Gaius turned from the large round table he’d installed in the corner of his office for these sorts of meetings.

 

“It’s good to be back,” Arthur replied.

 

“And you’re feeling-“

 

Arthur leveled a look at Gaius and resisted the urge to elbow the snickering Leon.  “I know you’ve read my file already, Gaius.  Probably were the first one to see my test results.”

 

Gaius smiled.  “Yes, yes, but it’s always good to hear it straight from the source.”  He pointed to a chair at his left.  “Have a seat.”  He gestured to the table.  “Leon.”

 

Arthur pulled the file at his seat closer and began to flip through it.  “Arthur Penn, photojournalist, again?”

 

“You do have a talent behind the camera, Arthur, and we’ve kept that cover alive.  Nice piece in Travel Albion last month in fact.  It seemed a good cover for an island.  You’ll be having a bit of a working holiday, travel piece on the Isle of the Blessed, home to the rich and famous, that sort of thing.  Good excuse to be there for a bit if needed, and to move about the island and document things.”

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes.  “Gaius, if this is some junket, low level security sort of thing, I assure you, sir, that I’m capable of more than that.”

 

Gauis sighed.  “I wish that it were, Arthur.  But I’m afraid that this is something of the highest importance for this agency.  I have implicit trust in you, or I would not be assigning this to you.  It will require a certain delicacy in handling a non-operative in the field, and in maintaining an impeccable cover, and I know you are capable of both.”

 

Arthur nodded, pulling the file towards him again.  “I apologize, sir.”

 

“Not at all, dear boy.  What we are about to discuss is of the highest clearance.”

 

“Understood,” said Arthur, as the pieces began to fall into place.  “Is this about-“

 

“Balinor Emrys and the Druid Cult Terrorists.  Yes, I’m afraid so, Arthur.  We’ve run sources to the ground, and I’m afraid we’re going to have to try a somewhat unconventional approach.  It may be a long shot, but since Emrys’s death, they’ve tightened their ranks.  We’re left with few other choices.

 

“So what’s the plan, Gaius? And what’s on the Isle? What are you expecting?”

 

Gaius sighed. “We’re working from shreds.  Here’s what we were able to recover from the files on what Emrys had shared before he was killed.  It’s clear his business contacts on the Isle of the Blessed were key to his involvement, though we can’t piece together precisely how.  Perhaps they were involved in the financing schemes, or perhaps there’s more.”

 

“Do we have any names?” Arthur asked.

 

 “Three come up, one in particular.  Morgause Gorlois, Cenred Wessex, and Alvarr Beaumains. They all go back for many years with Balinor, to when he was first starting out. Gorlois was at university with him as well, some rumors of a relationship there.  She’s our main target, as you’ll see in a moment.”  Gaius pointed to the screen against the wall and pulled  three pictures up.  

 

Arthur recognized them in passing.  Alvarr was the oldest, hawk eyed, but starting to get paunchy around the middle.  Cendred looked sleek and oily to Arthur, a smarminess that underlay the expensive suit and haircut he was attired in.  Morgause was a beautiful woman, older than she appeared in the photo if she’s been Emrys’s age, with a class about her that neither Cendred nor Alvarr could match.  She was also quite brilliant in business, ruthless in her dismantling of companies, he’d heard.

 

Gaius moved on.  “We've hit a brick wall with them however - none of the people we've identified as associates are talking, especially now, and we can't force things.  They've circled the wagons and anyone new is viewed with suspicion, no matter how subtly we’ve tried to gain access.  Gorlois and some of the others maintain residences on the Isle, for the tax benefits, no doubt, but we think they may also use it to conduct business related to the Druids, because everything here in Camelot comes up without a single item to raise an eyebrow at.  Financials, business contacts, even personal histories have been practically scrubbed cleaned - too clean if you ask me.  The Isle on the other hand is known for looking the other way on indiscretions of its wealthier clientele, and it’s technically outside our jurisdiction, so you’ll have to operate with care.”

 

“So what’s the plan?”

 

Gaius clicked a few keys on his tablet and pulled another picture up.  Arthur stared for a moment, certain he’d seen the face before.

 

“Merlin Emrys. Balinor’s son.  He grew up primarily in the custody of his mother and maternal grandfather, but he did spend some time with his father growing up.”  Gauis tapped the table.  “Merlin could be our way in, someone they may trust enough to at least get in the door.  He’s his father’s son, but we’re convinced that he was never aware of or involved in his father’s dealings.  He’s been interviewed multiple times by different agencies; we’ve checked him out throughly.  He’s wealthy too, but his money doesn’t come from his father, and though he’s had more than his share of indiscretions, shall we say, they’re well known and somewhat garden variety for a young man.”

 

Indiscretions.  Of course, that’s where Arthur has seen him before, at the newsstand, face plastered on a grainy tabloid in badly done color, hand out to block the camera.  A party boy type.  Who liked to do more than just party with other boys, if he remembered the last headline he’d seen correctly.  He glanced at the screen again.  The photo was more formal, perhaps even from his university days, but Merlin still caught the eye.  Arthur pushed that thought away and turned back to the director.

 

“Are you certain, Gaius?  With his level of, shall we say, media exposure?” Arthur asked.

 

“I know that doesn’t seem a positive, but he won’t seem a saint, which will work to our advantage.  He’s been hounded in the media for months now, so he may be viewed by them as persecuted - fleeing the publicity of Camelot for the safety of the Isle much like they have.  They won’t likely take him into their confidence, as least initially, but if he can get inside, get them to drop their guard and invite him in to the compounds they maintain, it may allow us to find a way to access something.  Quite frankly, it’s a bit of a desperation move, but we’ve few other moves left to make.” 

 

Arthur regarded Gaius skeptically.  "So you really think they"ll let him in?  Just because he’s Balinor’s son?”

 

"I don't know." Gaius sighed.  “They may not, though family connections seem to be valued - especially by Gorlois, and that may well make the difference.   This is important.  We have to get some of those people to open their doors to him, make him part of their group.  And if we can get you access as well, that would be ideal.”  He nodded to Leon.

 

Leon opened another file and produced more paperwork.  “We need you to make contact with Emrys and try to persuade him to agree to help us.  We don’t have much leverage - he was cleared months ago of any suspicions, and between his wealth and his grandfather’s old cronies still in the government, we’d be hard pressed to force him.  He’s been defensive about his father, naturally I suppose, and so you are authorized to tell him, in general terms at least, the truth about what happened to his father, if it becomes necessary.”

 

“So, revenge is the motivation we’re using?” Arthur asked, flipping through the files.  

 

“Only if necessary.  We’d prefer not, but I’ve poured through the transcripts from when he’s been interviewed before, and that seems the angle most likely to get him to agree.”

 

“And if he does - we head to the Isle?”

 

“Yes,” Leon replied.  “Your travel writer cover works well for this, well established, and hasn’t been used much in the last few years, so we think that’s the best fit for you.  We do need to create a plausible way for you to be with Emrys on a regular basis on the island.  He’s going to need a lot of hand holding to get through this.”

 

Arthur stiffened.  “So you want what exactly?”

 

Leon looked him in the eye.  “You need to be able to see him every day.  Regular access to his room in a way that won’t raise suspicions is even better.  Keep it simple, don't overdo it, but  make it something that he can easily explain once you’re on the Isle.”  

 

“So you’re thinking, meet on the plane, invite him for drinks, maybe even strike up a little vacation romance as a cover?”

 

Leon looked down, and shuffled his papers.  “We need you to develop something that accounts for your very active presence in his life, and Emrys is openly bisexual, so play it by ear - whatever you think will work.”  Leon paused.  “I know after last time you’re a bit gun shy for a romance cover - but we thought this might be easier.  Go with a bromance if you’d rather - but we need you to have ready access to his suite, have a reason to be seen coming and going as you please.  He may be watched initially. Between your undercover work last year and the last assignment . . . You’ve been out of sight for a bit now, so your cover should be solid to accompany Emrys as needed.”

 

“I can do what’s needed.” Arthur sighed.  “Bromance, Leon?  Really?” He picked up the paperwork Leon had laid out on the desk.  “So what’s our timeline?”  

 

“Emrys has been in the country, holed up at his grandfather’s estate for the last month, but we have information that he arrived in town this morning.  He keeps a suite at the Balor Hotel.  If you can make contact tonight, that would be excellent.”

 

“We’d like to get you on the island as soon as possible,” Gaius said. “The sooner you’re there, the better, build up some credibility before we try to make contact with Gorlois.  This one will be fluid - you’ll have to react as things evolve.  Leon will be in touch on a regular basis, and if things start moving, we may send him and a tactical team over as well.”

 

“Alright,” Arthur replied.  He gave a quick knock on the table, and stood.  “Thank you, Gaius.  I appreciate your letting me have this chance.”

 

“Not at all, my boy.”  Gaius rose.  “Leon, will you give us a moment?”

 

“Of course.”

 

As the door closed, Gaius turned.  “Arthur, your father doesn’t have clearance on this one.  He may still be a consultant, but with his connection to Balinor Emrys and what happened . . . well, you understand.”

 

Arthur nodded.  “I do.  I won’t say anything to him.”  

 

Gaius smiled.  “I know his persistence, but I believe you might be a match for him in that department, Arthur.”

 

“As are you,” Arthur smiled back.  “You were the right choice to replace him, Gaius, even if he disagrees.”

 

Chapter 2:  Keep You in The Dark

 

Merlin was alone.  That was nothing new, he was always alone now, even in the middle of a crowd, but tonight he needed to lose that, to feel some connection, no matter how transient.  The lights of the nightclub strobed in multi-colored arcs around him, throwing dancers into relief as they moved with abandon to the throbbing music and he let himself merge, into the lights and sounds and magic working its way through his bloodstream that would wash it all away for  little while.  He flung his head back and let his body move wantonly amongst the worshippers of hedonism, oblivious to those around him, and the lustful stares of those who wanted to enter his aura.

 

The beat changed, a transition, and he let his head fall, surveying the crowd through half closed eyes, bored by the blatant stares, full of invitation or judgment  Men, women, boys, girls, overly eager, whispering to each other as they watched.  Or so he felt.  Perhaps it was just his paranoia.  

 

Then he saw him. A stare he couldn’t ignore, and he stilled for the briefest of moments. Not a random leer or invitation. No. The smoldering blue eyes that met his spoke much more than that.

 

He was gorgeous as sin, dressed in clothes that whispered rather than screamed money, and highlighted a body that made his mouth water.  His hair drew Merlin’s eyes, the blond appearing almost red in the flashing lights as he moved across the floor to his. He advanced gracefully, as though he were stalking him, a mountain lion set upon his prey. Merlin shivered at a little thrill and tug deep inside.

 

He wasn’t the usual type to come to this club, or even his usual type, but Merlin felt a pull.  For tonight he would do.  He wondered for a moment if the preliminaries were even necessary. He was drunk enough to have lost his inhibitions, if not his taste, and this place had a notorious back room. A quick anonymous fuck and done, no entanglements. He doubted the bloke would object - no one who came here ever did.

 

The man was upon him now, and without a word pulled him flush against his body.  He didn't bother to protest the assumption he would dance with him. The beat shifted again, slowed, the rhythm more seductive, and he found himself caught in those blue eyes as their bodies brushed, the sparks between them almost visible.

 

He was about the same height, but broader, solid and more substantial than his own thin frame.  The man circled him, and he again felt the shiver at the thought of being the hunted one, and suppressed a small laugh at how they both were playing the same game.  Hunter and hunted. He could feel the man at his back now, hand pressing against the flushed flesh of his stomach as he pulled him back against his solid body. He drifted, content to sway to the music, enclosed in anonymous arms that felt oddly comforting as the alcohol blended everything away. No worries, no concerns. There’d probably be another picture of him on a gossipy web site tomorrow, highlighting what a whore he was, but right now, he truly didn’t give a fuck.

 

The song ended and he turned, leaning close to be heard as the next track was spun. "You wanna go for a ride?" He thought he managed that without too much slurring and the blond didn't seem to mind.

 

He nodded. “I was about to ask you the same.”

 

Umm, very nice. Posh accent, had that sexy timbre to it, almost velvety. He could imagine what he'd sound like in bed, whispering what he'd do to him next. Perfect. Just what he wanted.  Make him forget.  He stumbled a bit, his grace to the music gone. "Gonna tell my mates I'm going."

 

Mates was probably too strong of a word, but they were supposed to be here celebrating Mordred’s birthday and he didn't want one of them trying to find him later, should they even remember he'd been here. The man inclined his head to let him lead the way through the crowd until they arrived at a small corner table where a group of beautiful, dissolute people sat.

 

“Merlin, how are you, love? Here, you look thirsty."

 

He grabbed the shot of tequila and slung it back with a small moue of his mouth and shake of his head. He hated tequila.  The boy who'd given him the glass began cackling as he punched another member of the group in the arm. "I love it when he does that. 's so funny."

 

The others laughed, and he moved over to one who had a lap full of two girls straddling him and each other as they licked their way up his neck.

 

“Mord, I'm going now.  Happy birthday.”

 

Mordred twisted to stare at him, taking in the man lounging behind him and regarding them all with bored disinterest. "Yeah, sure." He batted away the multiple hands and slid the girls off his lap as he pulled Merlin to the side.

 

"Who's that guy?” Mordred asked.

 

"Who cares what his name is?"

 

Mordred raised an eyebrow and laughed. "I love the way you chew them up and spit them out, Merlin.  Never the same one twice. You sure you want to leave though?  Some more people are coming later, someone who wants to meet you.  He can stay and play with us.”

 

Merlin shook his head.  “Sorry, Mord. I’m done in. Have a good night though.”

 

“How about a little present from me then, to finish off your night.  Take a couple of these for you both."  Mordred grabbed his palm and shook a few small pills into his hand. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't. So, you know, pretty much do anything.” He smirked and pulled the pouting girls back onto his lap.  

 

Merlin stared at the small pills. How long had it been since he'd had one of these? He’d sworn he was done with all that.  But then tonight was for having fun and forgetting, wasn’t it?  If they turned his head off, let him float, well, he deserved that.  He grabbed another of the shot glasses on the table and threw back one of the pills, chased by the tequila, his face contorting again.

 

The whole table cackled as they watched.

 

He slid the extra in his pocket and turned to see the man still lounging against the post.

 

“Still coming?”

 

"After you."

 

The extra shots had hit by now and the glow that had begun ever so slightly to fade resumed its shine. Blondie was surprisingly polite, opened the door for him as they made it to the street and out of the crowded club, his hand ever so lightly at the small of his back as if to guide him. Merlin shivered at the touch, the pills and the alcohol starting to blur the edges now as he tried to sort through that light press, almost protective.  Blue eyes had to know he was getting laid; why was he even bothering? No one was just nice to him, not anymore.  

 

He turned and smiled at him seductively. "You got a car?"

 

"Just my bike tonight. Wanna ride?" Blondie smirked.

 

The entendre was barely veiled. He smirked back.

 

"I want to drive."

 

"Whatever the gentleman wants."

 

"You aren't afraid?"

 

The parking lot was just at the end of the block and he pulled the man towards the low-slung sports car made more ostentatious by its candy apple red shell, a wet dream of a car. His father had presented it to Merlin just after his graduation,  a few days before he was arrested. Right as his world fell apart.  He hated the car.  He drove it anyway.

 

He shoved that thought away and fumbled for the car key that he'd tucked in his pocket. He tried to stay balanced but his legs were starting to wobble now, head spinning a bit.  Fuck, he should have passed on that last shot, he felt like he was going to pass out, and Merlin wanted this guy now, needed him to make him feel something, drown out the voices in his head that wouldn't shut up.

 

"Allow me." Blondie’s fingers brushed his, taking the key first, then trailing up his arm, tracing his cheek. "Let's get you in the car, Merlin."

 

How did he know his name? He didn't like it when people knew his name, it always fucked things up.  Did Blue Eyes have a name? He didn't remember. Had he even asked? Didn't matter. He'd be gone in the morning. That's how this worked.

 

The pill Mordred had given him was moving through him, and he felt warm and languid. He arched himself against that hand like a cat, wanting Blondie’s hand to keep touching him as he leaned back against the car. It felt so good, the little brushes of his fingertips on his cheek, his neck, even the light flicker of a fingertip against the shell of his ear.  How’d he know that was his spot already?

 

"Feels good," he managed, his eyelids feeling heavy as he tried to keep them open, watch the face now so close to his. He really was beautiful, this man, maybe even more so outside the harsh lighting of the club. His own hand lifted, and he touched the man’s cheek, felt the slight scrape of stubble there, a contrast to the soft lips he moved to next.  He wanted to feel those.

 

"Kiss me," he murmured, trying to loop his arms around his neck, pull him closer.

 

Blondie’s hand dropped away from his arm and he stepped back. Merlin felt cold suddenly at the look on his face, hard and almost angry.

 

"Get in the car, Merlin,” the man directed.

 

He stumbled, almost falling, and it seemed to soften the man.  He touched him again, caught his arm and half-carried him around to the passenger side. He placed him in the seat, buckling the seatbelt as though he were a child. Merlin reached his hand up, burying it in that light hair, like wheat but soft, inhaling deeply. He smelled musky, sweat from the heat of the club, the faint whiff of whiskey, and something else, not quite sweet, but it filled his senses. He wanted to lick him, see if he tasted as good as he smelled. Blondie could lick him too, he decided, giggling out loud. He stuck his tongue out, grazing the edge of his earlobe.

 

The man pulled back at the contact, one hand untangling Merlin’s fingers from his hair as he met his gaze for a minute. In the shadowed interior of the car, he couldn't quite read his expression.

 

"Don't play with fire, Merlin." He touched his lips lightly to the flesh of Merlin’s palm, then tucked it at his side, closing the door behind him.

 

By the time he started the car, Merlin had passed out.

 

____

 

Arthur looked down at the body he’d dumped on the bed.  Heavier than he looked, was Merlin Emrys.  Arthur straightened his limbs and threw a blanket over him.  He appeared younger asleep than he did in the more recent photos Arthur had been given, the permanent sneer smoothed from his face.  No doubt he’d be quite hungover in the morning, but there was nothing to be done about that now.  He’d just have to wait until morning to talk to him.

 

Arthur closed the door to the bedroom and surveyed the opulent suite.  The city twinkled from behind the ceiling to floor windows, making Camelot appear like a fairyland Arthur well knew it was not.  He glanced back at the door he’d just closed, letting his imagination drift for a moment.  If this wasn't a job, if he’d just met Merlin on that dance floor by happenstance, well, he’d like to imagine things might be less quiet in there at the moment.  Merlin was very much his type, lean, long, with all that pale skin and those eyes.  Gorgeous. 

 

He sighed.  Damn Leon.  He had no doubt Leon was well aware this would be the case - he’d witnessed Arthur’s phase in school when he’d been more than a little obsessed with that one swimmer who looked a fair bit like Merlin.

 

He pulled out his phone and punched a number.  “Hello, Leon.”

 

“Arthur, it’s three in the morning.”  Leon sighed.  

 

“And you’re up.”

 

“So I am.  Did you find him?”

 

“I did.  He’s in bed in the next room.”  Arthur waited for the low catcall he’d been expecting.  “He was at a club, drunk and a bit high.  I got him safely home and tucked in after he passed out. Not able to get anything out of him tonight though.  But at least we’ve found him.”  

 

“Oh, excellent, that’s all well and good, Arthur.  The last unit made a mess of it during his last interview, all threats and no carrots, and he disappeared for a few months after that.  I thought he might leave the country and we’d lose our chance.”  There was a fumbling on the other end, and then Arthur could hear keys clicking.  “Did Lance get you the dossier?”

 

“Yes.  But it’s a bit weak. I need more background on him, on Gorlois, on all of this before we move forward, Leon.”  Arthur shifted the phone to his other ear and sat down, letting his head fall back against the softness of the plush sofa with a soft groan.  He was more tired than he wanted to admit.  “What I got in that file amounted to some tabloid headlines and third-rate journalism on Balinor Emrys.  I need to know more about Merlin to make this happen and more details about what we’ll need him to do when we get him to the Isle.”  

 

Leon stopped the clicking.  “Arthur, you sound tired.   If you’re not up to this, you can just bring him in.  And if you’re uncomfortable with faking a relationship with him, well no one expects you to jump back straight into undercover work so soon after what happened. Gaius will understand.”

 

“Don’t try that with me, Leon. I’m fine, but I can’t do my job if you hamstring me.  I know you and Lance don’t think I’m ready, but I am.”

 

Leon’s sign was audible.  “Arthur, no one blames you, or your father, for what happened.  We were all fooled.”

 

Arthur closed his eyes, his hand touching the scar on his side.  “You may not, but I do.  Tell Lance I need the full set of files delivered to the Balor Hotel before six this morning. I’ll meet him at the front desk. I need to be persuasive when I talk with Merlin.”

 

Chapter 3:  Send In Your Skeletons

 

Something was trying to drill a hole into his skull. Merlin opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light pouring through the window of the bedroom.

 

He closed them again, but the whirring noise continued, causing his head to pulse. What was that? And what happened last night?

 

He remembered the club, dancing, drinking, the gorgeous stranger. And then nothing.  He rolled over with a groan. Please let there not be another sex tape, he thought. He cracked an eye open and looked down. He was still wearing his clothes. Skinny jeans that fit like a glove. He doubted anyone would have bothered to try to slide his arse back in to those after screwing him.  

 

The whirring finally stopped and he covered his eyes in relief, massaging his temples and trying to get a handle on his nausea when the sound of a throat being cleared caused him to whip his head to the side.

 

He was still here. Still gorgeous. Still fully dressed. And holding a glass of something vile looking.

 

"You'll want to drink this," the man said, carrying over the cup and sitting it beside his bed. "And take these." He placed a couple of tablets beside it. "And then we can talk."

 

"Who the bloody hell are you? And what are you still doing here? Are you a reporter? With one of the tabs?"

 

He shook his head. "Drink it, and then we'll talk."

 

Blondie turned on his heel, leaving the room.

 

Merlin felt shaken and stupid as he watched him go, but grabbed the glass and the pills, sucking it back quickly, anger rising. He should call hotel security, have him removed, but first he needed to make sure what the man had been doing all night in his hotel suite while he was passed out.

 

He stood shakily, staggering into the bathroom and groaning at his reflection. He looked like hell, face creased from the sheets, red eyes, and hair flattened on one side of his head.  He splashed cold water on his face, ran wet fingers through his hair, and stripped out of the tight t-shirt from last night, throwing on something old and soft, nearly threadbare. Whoever the bloke outside was, he didn't feel like maintaining the image for him anymore.

 

Blondie was sitting on the sofa, staring out the window that offered a sweeping view of the city skyline, looking relaxed and at ease. He glanced over and nodded at the chair across from him.

 

"Why don't you have a seat and we can begin."

 

He noticed the array of magazines and newspapers strewn across the table. The garishly colored pictures and print in huge headlines that all bore the nickname he’d been christened with, Em, were bad enough.

 

_Em on the Town_

 

_Who's Em’s Latest Fling? Boy, Girl, or Two at Once?_

 

_Shocking New Photos of Em’s Secret Romance_

 

_Em’s Passionate Sex Tape Revealed_

 

But the ones in cold black and white newsprint were worse.

 

_Financier Balinor Emrys Swindles Millions_

 

_Investigation into Balinor Emrys Continues_

 

The one that lay on top made him look away.

 

_Balinor Emrys Commits Suicide While Awaiting Trial_

 

"Who are you?" he asked, fighting the nausea churning his stomach. "And what do you want? If this is about my father, I don't know anything."

 

The man nodded.  In the day he looked different.  Possibly even more fit than Merlin remembered from the night before, but so serious and sober that he wondered if he’d imagined that raw attraction from the dance floor.  “Yes, I've read the files. You're very convincing."

 

Merlin cursed under his breath. "Who the fuck are you?"

 

He leaned forward, extended a hand. "Sorry to be so rude, Mr. Emrys. Our meeting last night was a bit, well, unorthodox, but you’ve proven a bit difficult to reach of late.  My name is Arthur Pendragon. I'm an operative with a special government group known as Excalibur, and I've been sent to tell you, Mr. Emrys, that the nation of Albion needs your help." He smiled sunnily, then gave a small shrug as Merlin stared in open disgust at his hand and crossed his arms.

 

"Fuck you."

 

"I can understand your reluctance."

 

"You don't know anything about me," he fired back.

 

Pendragon raised an eyebrow and picked up a thick folder from beside the stack of tabloids. "Let's see. Balinor Merlin Emrys, sometimes known as Em, and to those close to him as Merlin, son of Hunith and Balinor Emyrs. Age 23. Unmarried.  Family deceased.  High marks in university, begun doctoral work in chemistry, quite a solid record before dropping out, currently unemployed.”

 

He tossed the folder down and looked Merlin in the eyes. "I know that your parents' brief marriage was a source of dissent between your mother and her father, leading to her disinheritance when they eloped. I know your parents divorced when you were seven, and you were shipped off to boarding school, while your mother returned home. Your mother remarried several times after that, but died when you were seventeen. You are the beneficiary of a trust you inherited from your maternal grandfather, making you a very wealthy young man.   Six months ago, your father was arrested. And four months ago, your father died.”

 

Arthur paused, head cocked to the side as he gave him a smile. "How am I doing so far? Shall I continue?"

 

Merlin picked up the folder and began leafing through it, ignoring him.

 

"Let's see, what else? Your father was arrested for criminal involvement in a number of financial schemes last year. And in the course of the investigation, it became clear that he was involved in more than just bilking some elderly folks and public trusts out of their money, that he had helped create a front for extremist groups, a lucrative venture. And although that involvement hasn't been made public knowledge, I know that you're aware of this and that you've been questioned several times."

 

Merlin refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him in any way.  He 'd thought he was through with all this, was never going to have to talk to another officer or agent. That's what the last one had promised.

 

Pendragon still wasn't done though. He stood up, paced to the window, staring out at the ocean far below as his voice dropped. "But I also know something that you don't know. Your father didn't kill himself before the trial, Mr. Emrys. He was murdered while in custody to prevent his testimony."

 

Merlin wanted to ignore him, but he couldn't. "You're lying."

 

Pendragon shook his head and turned around, his eyes solemn. "I wish that I were. It was a very serious error on our part that it happened, and for that, I offer our sincere apologies, and condolences.”

 

Merlin closed his eyes, the words ringing in his ears as he tried to process them. His father had been murdered. 

 

"I assure you, Mr. Emrys, that we are working with every diligence to determine who was behind your father’s murder. His information would have been invaluable in cracking a ring of extremists which have been suspected in multiple terrorist activities. And that is where you can help."

 

"Why would I want to help you?" he spat, jerking to his feet and moving to the small kitchen, suddenly, desperately needing to be moving. “My father wouldn’t be dead if you knew how to do your job.”

 

Pendragon followed behind, watched as Merlin jerked open the refrigerator, snatched out a bottle of water.

 

"Because you can help us catch his killers. The ones who murdered him, and many others, in cold blood.”

 

Merlin sighed, the weight of the emotions that had welled to the surface threatening to overwhelm him.  He needed a drink, or something, to stop thinking about all of this. "Mr. Pendragon, as I told the men in black who tracked me down in Mercia two months ago, my father didn't exactly confide in me. I can't help you."

 

Pendragon took a step forward. "Actually you can. People your father knew, friends, associates, would never suspect you. You're young, grieving, you may be able to get them to reveal things to you they wouldn't otherwise.”

 

He clutched the bottle tighter, certain that he was going to begin laughing hysterically soon. "You want me to be a spy?"

 

He nodded. "We need eyes and ears, Mr. Emrys, if we're going to bring your father’s killers to justice.  Your father was going to help us stop their plans - don’t let his death be in vain.”

 

Merlin took a deep breath, the last few terrible, horrible months flashing through his mind. He tried everything to block it all away. Sex, drugs, alcohol, anything to numb him, make him forget. And none of it had worked. The same empty ache was still there every time he was alone.  But if this was real, maybe it would help, just a little to make him less ashamed of being the son of Balinor.  And just as guilty for feeling that way about his father.  Before he could change his mind, he held out his hand to Pendragon.  "I'll do it."

 

 

 

Chapter 4: I’ve Finished Making Sense

 

Arthur shut the door behind him and walked slowly down the hallway towards the elevator.

 

Merlin Emrys had agreed.  

 

He’d actually agreed.

 

He hadn't thought there was a chance in hell that he would.

 

His face had been a study when he'd finally acquiesced.  A brief instant of emotion, then that expression, a cross between boredom and disdain, settled back in place again, cutting him off from the world.  Arthur had seen it before - people who built those walls. He'd watched Merlin last night at that club for a good thirty minutes before he'd let himself be spotted.  He had that flame quality that drew people in like so many moths, ready to fling themselves into his heat and burn out, because he was a challenge.  The unattainable who could be attained for just a fleeting moment.  

 

Arthur wouldn’t lie to himself.  He’d felt it too, when Merlin had caught him around the neck, pulled him closer and demanded a kiss.  His pupils were blown, he'd know he was drunk, high, and that this assignation was supposed to be business, not pleasure, but he'd almost given in and tasted him anyway.  

 

Watching him so lost this morning, the news of his father's murder breaking through that carefully constructed facade, he'd been glad he hadn't. Merlin was dangerous, the kind of person that made you care when there was really nothing more there than hormones and body heat.  

 

He pressed the button to summon the elevator and fought against the wave of exhaustion that suddenly hit him.  The physical rehab had made him soft, if going without sleep for twenty-four hours had this effect on him.  His fingers unconsciously touched his side.  The past six months recuperating from his injuries had left him slower than he'd have liked, in more ways than one.  

 

Leave it to Leon to let him handle the creampuff assignment like recruiting Merlin to ease him back in, then suggest he just turn him over to another agent while they parked him at a desk again.  He was certain Gaius had suggested that he be given the chance to back out.  Arthur knew Leon and Gaius both worried that he'd lost his edge after all that had happened this last year.  

 

Which left him with no choice but to somehow make Merlin Emrys into the best undercover source he possibly could.  He still thought it was ridiculous, the idea they could take someone like him and actually get any kind of useable information. Sure, Balinor Emrys’s friends would know who Merlin was, and his party boy reputation didn't hurt either.  He wouldn't raise the same kind of red flags that a new person trying to get close to that group would, especially now that they were locked down so tightly after what had happened with Balinor.

 

But the things that gave him the perfect cover were the same reasons Arthur doubted he'd make it.  Merlin Emrys could be the poster child for rich kids gone wild - Arthur would be lucky if Merlin didn't blow their cover within a week.  

 

The elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside, noting the only other occupant with detachment.  She was young, pretty in a hard sort of way, and dressed in a rumpled dress, her makeup smudged and hair still a little wild.  She looked as though she'd had quite a night.  

 

She gave him a sheepish smile that he only half-returned, keeping his focus on the mirrored doors at the front of the elevator while he watched her fumble in her minuscule purse for something. Never looking up, she pulled the gold band out of her bag, and slid it in place on the fourth finger of her left hand, clicking her purse shut with a snap.

 

It was only then that she raised her eyes again, and he met her gaze briefly in the mirror.  She colored faintly as he held her gaze, then looked away.

 

And his father wondered why he’d never actually gone through with getting married.  Of course his bride to be had sunk a bullet in him, so in retrospect, he’d probably just have preferred infidelity.

 

The cab dropped him off where he’d left his bike before, and he managed enough alertness to make it back to his own flat before giving in to the exhaustion as he shut the door behind him, letting the cool air wash over him.  Living without niceties like air conditioning  in the summer heat had been the least of the inconveniences on some of his assignments, but it didn't make him any less grateful for it when he had it.  

 

He sat on the edge of his bed, sliding off first one shoe and then the other, while fishing his keys, wallet, and phone out of his pockets and tossing them on the nightstand.  Finally, sleep.

 

The phone started to vibrate as it hit the surface, and he groaned rubbing a hand over one gritty eye as he checked the number on the display,  He picked the phone back up and flipped it open.  

 

“Pendragon.”

 

“Did you talk to Emrys this morning?”

 

“Good morning to you, too, Leon,” Arthur replied, leaning back against the headboard.  “And yes, I spoke with him after he staggered up.  Thank Lance for me - the old papers and tabloids he sent over were a nice touch.  You were right. Emrys doesn’t react well to the media.”

 

Leon went straight to the point.  “And?  What did he say?”

 

“He’s agreed to work with us.”  

 

He could hear the chuckle through the phone.  “None better than you, Arthur.  Good work.”

 

“Considering I've been back in the office twenty-four hours and recruited him with only a vague idea of what the hell kind of operation we’re trying to set up here, I'd say it's damn fine work.”  Arthur stifled a yawn.  “Other than dangling him like a mouse under Gorlois’s nose, is there some actual plan here?”

 

“Gaius wants to have another briefing this afternoon, then get you both on a plane by tomorrow morning.”

 

“I did have to tell him about his father.”

 

There was a pause, then Leon sighed. “I thought you might.  But it does give him a reason to be invested, doesn’t it?  Let’s just hope he won’t blame us to much and decide to screw us over.”

 

“I know,” Arthur replied.  “It does worry me, a little.”

 

  “Such a clusterfuck, that night.  It was an inside job, Arthur.  We all know it had to be, and there were only a few people it could have been, but your father refused to acknowledge it.”  He shook his head.  “Then when Gaius discovered the evidence your father couldn’t ignore . . . I’ve never seen Excalibur fall apart that badly.  That's one reason this is so critical - we have to make right what happened, regain the ground we lost.”

 

“You really think this can work?”  Arthur asked.

 

“Maybe.  Maybe not.  But we have to try something.  Gaius has a hunch that perhaps Merlin will be the crack in the impenetrable wall, and his instincts, though hard to follow, are often right about these things.”

 

Arthur nodded .  “Alright then.  I'll be in the office by oneish.  I need some sleep.”

 

“So were you there with him all night?” Leon asked, his tone teasing.  

 

“Yes, and believe me, watching the infamous Em puke his guts out takes the edge off of the glamour of the rich and famous.  They apparently upchuck just as other mortals.  I’m off, Leon,” Arthur said, tired of the conversation.  He shut the phone and set the alarm, falling back on the bed and closing his eyes.  The phone buzzed again.  Groaning, he fumbled blindly for it.  

 

“What is it now, Leon?” 

 

“I know this is a secure phone, Arthur, but you should be more careful when answering.”

 

Arthur cursed silently, sitting up.  “Father, how are you?”

 

“As good as I can be, all things considered.  Gaius mentioned in the morning briefing that you would be back in the field, but no specifics were provided.  Where does Leon have you?”

 

Arthur tensed.  “If Gaius didn’t share, you know I can’t either.”

 

He could picture his father’s anger, the tensed jaw and narrowed eyes.  “Of course not.  Good your convalescence hasn’t made your mind soft, I suppose.  I’m sure it’s something routine.  After Sophia, they’d hardly want to place you back into a high-stakes assignment.  One has to work their way back up, you know, Arthur.”

 

Arthur gritted his teeth.  His father was a master of manipulation, but one didn’t grow up with those tactics and learn nothing, even if his father was an expert in goading him.  “Of course, Father.  You would know.”  He disconnected the call on the sharp gasp and tossed the phone back on the nightstand, falling back on the cool pillows.

 

His last assignment may have gone sideways, but it had been nothing to the cock-up his father had made of the Balinor Emrys case.  He’d been lucky that his long record and experience had given him enough pull to stay on as a consultant, though he knew it galled his father that he was no longer head of the agency.  And now it was apparently Arthur’s job to sort it the mess.   But not yet.  For now, he needed sleep.  He closed his eyes and let the exhaustion take him.

 

 

 

Chapter 5: Who Are You?

 

The security line was long as he waited to grab one of the little bins. Merlin balanced on one foot, trying to tug off one shoe without falling over, when a hand caught his elbow and steadied his.

 

"Thanks," he replied, trying to flash a smile that seemed natural.  Were people watching?  Did he seem like he was interacting with a stranger? "Don't want to break my leg." He laughed nervously.

 

"No problem," the man replied, tossing his bag in a tray behind him. "Going somewhere special?” he asked.

 

"The Isle of the Blessed. Sun, fun, and relaxation."  Another nervous laugh.

 

Arthur remained nonchalant, though Merlin thought he might have seen a slight eye roll.  “You’re kidding? I'm headed there too. Flight 1435?" he asked, flashing his ticket.

 

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, that's me."  He managed to suppress the laugh this time.  Maybe he was getting the hang of things.

 

The attendant waved him through and he grabbed his stuff on the side, pausing to once again slide the shoes back on. The man followed behind, steadying him again.

 

"I might have to keep you around; you're good at that," Merlin said.  Take that, Arthur.  

 

"I'm good at a lot of things," he winked. "Name's Arthur Penn.”

 

Merlin reached for the extended hand, trying to keep himself calm. "I'm Merlin Emrys. My friends call me Merlin."  He sighed internally.  What else would they call him?

 

Arthur held his hand for a moment longer than necessary. "And what should I call you?"

 

Get it together, Merlin.  He smiled flirtatiously in response.  He could do this. "Well, I think I'd like us to be friends."

 

"Merlin it is, then."

 

They pulled their carry-ons behind them as they walked towards the gate. Merlin paused before the sign for the men's room.

 

"I'm just going to stop here for a minute. Save me a seat at the gate?"

 

Arthur gave him a sharp look, but nodded. “Sure.”

 

Merlin entered the restroom, locking himself quickly in a stall and leaning back against the door, his hands starting to shake. Why the hell had he agreed to this? He didn't know anything about being a spy, how to pick a lock, or break a computer encryption, or any of the other exploits spies probably did. He’d just managed to finish his last year of university before everything went to hell with his father, but he’d never had a job, done nothing but spend the last few months trying to ignore what was happening, letting his reputation as a lazy, useless wastrel grow with every drink, every night he couldn't remember, every girl or guy he fucked and forgot.

 

That was all he was good at these days.  He didn’t know what worth that would do anyone, no matter what Arthur said.

 

Merlin took a deep breath, remembering the last time he’d seen his father. He hadn't wanted Merlin to visit him in prison, where he was being held until the trial, but it had been Merlin’s birthday, and he knew no one else would remember. Balinor had been one of those fathers, the kind that when you were with him, everything was wonderful. When he was little, on his rare weekend visits, Balinor would arrange elaborate behind the scene trips to the zoo for him to feed the animals, or take him to see his favorite footie team and get special autographs. When he was older, his few weeks spent during summers with his father had been filled with limitless credit cards to buy whatever he wanted, and fancy dinners trotted out to be shown off by his father to his friends, where he felt older and more sophisticated than his mother ever treated him. Balinor had been the model of an absentee parent, always giving, rarely strict, and never really there.

 

But he’d still loved him. That last day, seeing Balinor behind the glass, his eyes hollow, the coarse cotton of the prison garb a sharp contrast to the expensive suits he'd favored, Merlin had realized that even after everything, the scandal, the notoriety, the betrayal, he was still his father. He just wished he'd told him that.

 

He pushed away from the door.  This was his chance to make up for that in a way. He just had to do it.

 

Arthur had been short on details as they'd sat facing each other on the couches in his hotel suite the night before. He didn't have the full information about what they’d be doing yet. Arthur was assigned as his handler,  a freelance travel photographer that he'd hit it off with on the plane. They were being sent to the Isle of the Blessed, where his father had done a lot of business, and he was supposed to look like he was on vacation, a getaway from all the media scrutiny. 

 

And so here he was. Standing in an airport bathroom trying not to lose his nerve. He had a plane to catch, and a guy to meet cute with.

 

Merlin squared his shoulders, unlocked the bathroom door, and headed back into the terminal.

____

 

His father’s favorite hotel was as Merlin remembered it, elegant, with attentive staff who didn't blink an eye at his last name when he checked in. He slid into a seat at the bar beside the ocean later that evening, ordering a whiskey from the bartender. It wasn't his usual, but it seemed appropriate as his father’s favorite.

 

"Merlin? We meet again. It must be fate." Arthur appeared by his side, a smile on his face. He indicated the seat next to his. "Are you here with anyone?"

 

He shook his head. "No, just wanted some fresh air. I love to listen to the sound of the ocean at night."

 

"It's one of the most peaceful sounds in the world," Arthur agreed. "Mind if I join you?"

 

He gave a small shrug. "Be my guest." 

 

Merlin tried not to look around, notice if they were being noticed.  Their initial meeting at the airport still felt stiff and unnatural in his memory, like he was a two-bit actor who barely know his lines.  _Hello, mate, I’ll be playing Merlin today.  Badly._   Arthur had indicated to meet out here, allow people to see them talking to create the illusion of their connection.  Whatever that was supposed to mean.

 

Arthur seemed to have a natural ability to turn on the appeal with a slow glance up from under those lashes and a quirk of his full lips, which Merlin found himself staring at for longer than he should.  Or maybe he should be staring. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Arthur - he had been from that first night at the club.  But he wasn’t even sure if Arthur was straight, gay, bisexual, or even asexual.  In public he was all charm, but in private Merlin had felt as though he were dealing with another Arthur altogether, reserved, professional, bordering on cold.

 

Arthur had told him they needed to build a rapport, be seen meeting in public places and going about together.  A holiday friendship of the sort that one stuck up when traveling alone to explain why Arthur was around so much, so unexpectedly, maybe bleeding into something more depending on how things evolved.  It made sense, of course, to create some plausible explanation for Arthur’s appearance in his life.

 

Merlin had founded himself pondering as Arthur had sketched out the first few days and how they were to start the charade as they waited for Leon to give them final instructions.  He’d been more discriminating than the tabs would lead one to believe, sure, but he had his share of meaningless sex over the last couple of years.  But it was honest - sex, sometimes fueled by alcohol, but straightforward, no strings attached.  Before everything, when he’d been plain, boring Merlin, he’d wondered if he could find someone special.  His mother had been the eternal optimist, aways looking for love and he’d envied her capacity to keep trying, even after multiple failed relationships.  He’d lost that once he’d become Em though.  Em didn’t do real friendships.  Or feelings.  Or relationships.

 

But a one-night stand wouldn’t work if Arthur was going to be glued to his side.  So there had to be something more.  Even if Merlin wasn’t sure if he knew how to do that.  Real or make-believe.

 

Merlin placed an order and they continued to chat for about an hour about nothing of importance. He glanced around from time to time to see if anyone had noticed them yet, but aside from an occasional admiring glance or double take of a few people who recognized him from his frequent tabloid shots, no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention.

 

After about an hour, he knew it was time for him to move to the next phase. The liquor helped, as it always did, and it was such old habit now, he barely even needed to try to slip into seduction mode, even if it was just for the benefit of those who might be watching.  Friendship was hard, but this, this he knew how to do, even if he hadn’t lately.

 

"So, I think I'm going to head up to my room. Would you care to join me for a drink there?”

 

Arthur’s answering smile was slow and charming and the heat in his eyes as he leaned forward made Merlin certain that he'd had practice in this as well. "I'd love to."  

 

Arthur put his arm around him as he stood, and they walked along, a textbook example of love or lust or at least strangers who were ready to screw. They joined a group of several others waiting by the elevator, and Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur. Arthur was watching him already and surprised him by leaning forward and touching his mouth to Merlin’s.

 

It was soft and swift and possibly the most chaste kiss he'd had in years. But that brief press of Arthur’s lips sent a charge through him that almost caused him to stumble as he led Arthur into the elevator.  Once inside, Arthur stood close, his arm half around him as they backed in to the elevator corner, far closer than the half-full elevator demanded.  He was aware of eyes sliding over them, some staring and others turning away as Arthur ran his hand up Merlin’s arm, his eyes never leaving his face.  It wasn’t obscene, or even overtly sexual, that gentle touch, but the intensity was unnerving and Merlin felt his pants tighten from the light stroke of Arthur’s fingers on his forearm.  

 

When the elevator stopped, and they reached his suite, Merlin fumbled a minute for the key card until Arthur took it from his hand and opened the door. 

 

Once inside, he pulled away, all traces of the eager lover gone as he motioned for Merlin to be silent as he pulled out his cell phone and placed a call.

 

"It's Arthur Penn. How’s tomorrow’s forecast?”

 

Apparently satisfied with the answer, he ended the call. “Leon’s set up local security for now.  They’ll be making sure that nothing’s been planted.  They finished the sweep of the room while we were in the bar. It’s clear. We'll check it again every few days to be sure, but until there’s some contact with your father’s associates, it's probably not an issue. We can talk freely here.”  

 

He made a circuit of the room himself, seemed satisfied in what he found, then settled on to one of the couches, motioning for Merlin to take the opposite.

 

Merlin stood rooted by the door as though he hadn't heard him, arms crossed. "Why did you kiss me down there?”

 

Arthur gave him a slightly embarrassed look. "I thought it would sell us more as a couple starting a vacation romance.  Or at least a possible pick-up.  You’d invited me to your room, it seemed to follow.”

 

He knew that should be the answer he wanted to hear - had been what he’d been expecting, but the ease of dismissal from Arthur bothered him.  That kiss and those touches had felt too real to him.  "And so just like that we’re a couple?  One meeting over drinks?”

 

Arthur sighed.  “That will be the easiest way for you to explain having me around, Merlin.  We discussed this, and while it’s a bit fast, we don’t know how much time we have before you’re noticed.  We might as well start, it will be good practice if we are used to interacting in public when someone that matters is watching.”

 

Merlin pressed his lips together tightly, trying to control himself, unsure why he was so angry.  He’d understood all that as part of the cover, so what had he been expecting, Arthur to shag him blind when they reached the room? It was part of the act.  He couldn’t stop the irrational urge to lash out at the bland smoothness of Arthur’s face.  "So, what, I'm supposed to play house with you during this whole thing?  You’d like that, I suppose.”

 

Arthur gave a short laugh. “There’s no need to play the blushing virgin, Merlin. I think we're all clear on the fact that while you may not stick around long enough to play house, you're more than competent between the sheets.”

 

His nostrils flared with indignation and he crossed to Arthur in a few angry strides, his fist curling instinctively as he took a swing.  A little wild, but he clipped Arthur’s jaw with enough impact to make a satisfying thud.   Merlin stepped back, trying to catch his breath, and watched as Arthur touched his cheek gingerly.

 

"I supposed I deserved that." He inclined his head. "My apologies. I didn’t think you’d mind - we were working well, the chemistry was there, it seemed like a good way to move forward.”

 

"They're not all true," Merlin murmured, crossing the room to the doors leading out to the terrace. "What they print. Even the photographs – it's not always what it looks like, me always drunk and flashing cash and screwing somebody.  There’s more to me than that.” 

 

He could hear soft footsteps behind his, and then a hand on his shoulder. "I know," Arthur said. "Merlin, I am sorry. I was out of line.  If we’re to work together, we have to trust one another.  And what I did tonight, that was not the way for me to do that with you. I should have discussed it with you first.”

 

He gave a brief nod in acknowledgment, but refused to turn to face Arthur.

 

"Can I . . . make it up to you? Meet me for breakfast, and we'll go do some sightseeing. My agency contact has said they're still working on some details, and they won't be in touch until at least the day after tomorrow."

 

"That's fine."

 

He gave his shoulder a slight squeeze, and then moved away. "I'll let myself out then."

 

Merlin heard the door close behind Arthur before he let himself consider for a brief second what playing house with Arthur Pendragon would be like. What playing house with anyone would be like. Arthur was right, as much as he hated to admit it to himself.  Merlin had no idea what being in a relationship would be like.  He’d never let anyone get that close.

 

He gave a sigh and headed for his bedroom. If this had any chance of working though, he was going to have to open up some, and try harder.

____

 

Arthur shut his hotel room door two floors below Merlin and sat heavily on the bed.  What the hell had he been thinking?  He’d been out of line to kiss Merlin that way.  He wasn’t handling this well.  Relationships as cover weren’t new.  When he wasn’t in the field alone, he’d often paired with a partner, usually a woman.  But from time to time he’d been paired with a man when the occasion arose.  It had nothing to do with his personal preferences, it was simply part of the job.  

 

Except when it wasn’t.  It had been different with Sophia, of course, given the nature of their relationship and the pressure he’d felt, from his father, her father, the way they were constantly paired both on assignments and off.  It had grown to feel comfortable, secondhand to have her on his arm.  He didn’t know who he blamed most for the debacle that had happened.  Her or his own stupidity for becoming so complacent.  His fingers drifted to his side, tracing his scar.

 

But there was no excuse for what was happening now.  He should have talked to Merlin last night, walked him through everything before they left Camelot, expectations, possibilities, ensured that he understood how these sorts of things were done, the ways one would need to act in public to sell a relationship that was only that, an act.  But he hadn’t.  Merlin had regarded him with those wide eyes, some combination of confusion, anger, and something else swirling in there, sitting on his plush, soft couch in his glass box atop one of the finest hotels in Camelot, and Arthur had found himself intrigued, wanting to tease open what was there.  

 

He should have left Merlin last night, found a bar, taken home whoever was willing and worked out his issues then.  It had been months now, between his injury and rehab, and he’d always been careful in his choice of partners, but he was regretting his lack of foresight now.  Because something was becoming abundantly clear.  One, he was very attracted to Merlin Emrys.  Two, after that kiss and Merlin’s reaction, there was something mutual there. And three, acting on it would be a mistake.

 

Arthur walked into the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water and scrubbing his face with a towel.  Tomorrow, he’d do better.  Establish some ground rules, get Merlin comfortable with him again.  Get a handle on himself.

 

Wandering back into his room, he unzipped his suitcase, pulling various items from the compartments.  Gaius had taught him that hiding in plain sight was always the best strategy, if it was an option.  The more layers one added, the more likely one was to make a mistake.  He unpacked the photography equipment for the travel piece he was working on, that Leon or Lance or someone at the agency would make sure was published somewhere to add to the list of credentials he’d amassed in the last few years in the event anyone checked up on him.  He’d see if Merlin wanted to come with him as he traveled around, give them a chance to scope out the Isle, especially the northern tip when Morgause Gorlois’s compound sat.  

 

He pulled out a phone tucked into the side, and placed it on the nightstand.  Leon would be calling later tonight, hopefully with an update.  Arthur didn’t like the feel of this.  It felt desperate, using Merlin who knew nothing and was even worse, a terrible liar.  Arthur had noted that, once Merlin’s blasé facade cracked just a little, everything he felt showed on his face.  He wondered if it was the reason he’d been honed in on so quickly, when the media circus surrounding his father had begun.

 

The last thing in the bag was his laptop, and he pulled the small drive from his pocket and inserted it in to the machine.  Lance had updated the files again before he left and he needed to read through the updates, though he’d poured over the file so extensively in the past few days he felt as though he could recite them.  

 

The files on the Emrys family had been thorough in terms of background, though he was left wondering what precisely had made Merlin into the man he was today.  Merlin’s mother has been old Camelot, with money and family connections that stretched back for centuries.  Balinor Emrys had been poor but brilliant when he’d met Hunith at university, and she’d been pregnant before they’d completed their courses.  It was a classic tale, one that rarely ended well.

 

But the photos in the file seemed to indicate that they’d been happy for a time at least, as Balinor had begun his meteoric rise in the world of finance.  Arthur remembered one picture of them that had been included, a tiny dark-haired, gap-toothed Merlin swinging between them, their heads thrown back with laughter.  He wondered where Lance found the background he did on their subjects sometimes, so private, but he was thorough to a fault.  Left no stone unturned.  Arthur hoped he was never one of Lance’s assignments.

 

It had fallen apart somewhere though, and Merlin had stayed with his mother, who had developed a drinking problem and bounced through a series of progressively shorter marriages before dying after a short illness in Merlin’s late teens.  Arthur wondered if that’s when Em had begun to form - the hard shell Merlin liked to project.  He’d never known his own mother, and he’d felt that loss keenly growing up with his father, focused on work and little else, but he had no doubt that having and losing her would be just as difficult, if not more.  

 

She’d made up with her family somewhere along the way as well, after Balinor had left her life, and Lance had included details of the pricey boarding school and summer holidays at his grandfather’s estate to the north of Camelot.  His grandfather had been highly placed in the government for a time, and seemed to be grooming Merlin for a similar path, based of the selection of his boarding school and university.  Very posh and proper, where Merlin would meet all the right people.

 

And all the wrong ones too, it appeared, the bored and wealthy looking for amusement where they could.  Merlin had been a model student at school - Lance had even managed to get his school records, he noted, and had done well at university, on track to pursue graduate work, when a series of events around the time he finished school sent him in to a tailspin.  

 

His grandfather has passed away.  He’d been ill for some time, so not a terrible surprise, but the news that he’d left his entire estate to Merlin, his only grandchild, had made the papers.  Arthur flipped to the next document, letting out a silent whistle.  It always amazed him the size estate of the estate, no matter how often he saw the number. Most of it held in trust until Merlin was slightly older, but he was more than comfortable now.  There were photos of the funeral, a pale Merlin with his father standing by his side.  Funny that, he was sure there was no love lost between Balinor and his former father-in-law, but he’d been there for his son.  Less than a month later, Balinor was arrested, and that last shot of him, standing next to his son at the funeral, made headlines over and over again.

 

And with him in custody, with charges of treason being placed but little details forthcoming, Merlin had become the focus of attention.  Within weeks he’d withdrawn from his graduate enrollment, dogged wherever he went by media as details of Balinor’s case unfolded.  And then suddenly it was like a flip was switched, like he’d decided the world could go fuck itself.  He was out and about everywhere, clubs, bars, spending money as though it were meaningless, always leaving with someone young and pretty and forgettable on his arm.  There were a pack of them, Mordred Lott the acknowledged leader and an old schoolmate who had folded Merlin in with them, but he stood out.

 

Arthur stopped at one of the pictures.  Merlin was leaned against a bar, his face bathed in blues and reds that highlighted the sharp angles of his face as he held the face of another man, a little shorter, with dirty blond hair, and kissed him.  He was beautiful, almost ethereal, and the one eye caught by the camera was open, a look of challenge captured.  

 

That picture made him hard.  Every time he looked at it.  There was something about Merlin, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  And that scared the hell out of him.  He shut the laptop with a slam and tossed it away from him on the bed. Hearts, even one’s as intriguing as Merlin Emrys, had no place in his job.  Leon had told him to see what worked - and that kiss had made one thing clear.  He needed to get himself under control when it came to Merlin Emrys.  Maybe a bromance was in order after all.

____

 

Merlin paced the bedroom, feeling caged, and considered heading downstairs for another drink, perhaps catch a cab to one of the nightclubs.  It wasn’t the high season for the island, but he was sure he could find someone to take his mind off Arthur.

 

But if he were seen, that might harm the illusion they were trying to form of he and Arthur.  He threw open the doors and walked out into the night air instead.  

 

It was a spectacular view.  The island was long and narrow, with a backbone of a steep range of mountains that tapered to crystal white beaches on the western side.  He’d noted the cliffs to the east as they flew in.  They were magnificent, sheer drops that made his queasy just to look at.  He’d never enjoyed heights, but standing on the wide terrace and looking out on the gentle swell of the ocean as the tide rolled in was soothing.  He dropped in to one of the padded lounges, the adrenaline of the last few days draining away, and felt his eyes start to drift shut.

 

_The stones soared around them, forming a natural circle against the gusting wind.  Merlin could see the sea in all directions, its waters dark and choppy._

 

_“The signs portend an ill wind,” the elder intoned.  “The Isle is displeased.”_

 

_A beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes that looked like the clearest ocean rose.  “We must take action, provide the sacrifices required.”_

 

_Merlin felt himself stand and address the crowd.  “I disagree.  The Isle is our mother and our home and she keeps us, but even she must change with time.  What I have seen is nothing more than that, a natural progression of her growth, though it will come soon, as the shakes of the ground have shown us.  No sacrifice is needed, but perhaps the hardest one for us to make.  We must leave the Isle for a time.”_

 

_“Where do you propose we go?” the ocean-eyed woman asked.  “Those across the sea do not understand out ways, and they fear our magic.”_

 

_“I have seen a place, in my dreams,” Merlin spoke again.  “Among them is a leader, with hair bright as the sun, who will take our people in.  We must show respect, abide by their customs, but they will be our shelter while the Isle renews herself.”_

 

_The ground shook beneath their feet again, and even among the elders there were shrieks and prayers._

 

_“Come,” Merlin said.  “We haven’t much time.  The boats must be readied.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6: The Need You Buried Deep

 

Arthur tapped the horn as Merlin exited the hotel, throwing his hand up in a wave.  Leon had been less than helpful at last night’s check-in.  Golrois remained high on the list of suspects, but they were still pulling together information before they wanted to place Merlin in a position to really attract her attention.  

 

So sightseeing it was.  There were several old ruins on the islands, and Arthur thought that one of them would make a good starting point for his articles.  The sun was just beginning to rise, and if they could get there soon, Arthur thought they’d have good light on the morning mist.

 

Merlin scrambled into the soft top four wheel drive he’d rented, and grimaced.  “Was a five a.m. wake up call really necessary, Arthur?”

 

He grinned.  “It’s the golden hour, Merlin.  Best time for photos.  Here, drink this and wake yourself up.”  He thrust a steaming cup of coffee at him.  

 

Merlin blinked, his face lighting up with a smile.  “Now that’s a reason to get out of bed.  Do you have any-“

 

“Already put two sugars in.”

 

The cup halted halfway to Merlin’s lips.  “How did you know?”

 

“We know everything, Merlin,” Arthur said seriously, shifting gears as he angled the vehicle up the steeper mountain roads of the interior.  He glanced at Merlin and allowed a small smile to slip out at his look of total disbelief.  “I noticed on the plane, Merlin.  You asked for two sugars with both cups you had.”

 

“Wow, observant,” Merlin murmured, pursing his lips as he blew across the hot coffee. 

 

“Part of the job,” Arthur replied.

 

“I suppose that’s something I’ll need to do more of, won’t I?” Merlin said, his voice quiet.  “What’s going to happen, Arthur?  What do I need to do?”

 

Arthur sighed.  “Normally, Excalibur doesn’t go into the field this way.  Months go into planning these missions.  But something has escalated matters that’s spooked the higher-ups and we’re rushing this.  Morgause Gorlois has maintained a presence on this island for years, and they believe that she is somehow connected.  She may be the heart of it - but she’s very, very good, Merlin.  On paper, she seems like a very successful entrepreneur, much like your father.  She went to school with him, you probably know - she was at university at the same time as he and your mother.”

 

“I didn’t know that,” Merlin said.  He took a sip of his coffee.  “I came here a few times with my father, when I was younger, and we would always visit her.   But I thought she was just someone he did business with.”

 

“It’s possible,” Arthur admitted.  “But some of what your father had shared before he was killed dovetails with Gorlois’s being involved.”

 

“But aside from knowing my father, why would she trust me?”

 

Arthur slowed for the poorly marked turnoff.  “One thing that comes up again and again on what can be found about Morgause is that she values family and loyalty.  Unless she knew that your father had talked, and we don’t think that his deal had leaked when he was killed, she still would remember him as a trusted friend and a possible asset.  She may see you the same way, or be willing to open the door for you in a way we haven’t been able to before.”

 

“So am I supposed to ask her for a job or something?”

 

Arthur shrugged.  “I think the first step will be to get you in the door literally.  A dinner invitation, a party, something to give us some insight into what may be there.  We’ll go from there - you may need to play it as just wanting to spend time with someone who knew your father, or maybe that you’re bored and are looking for something to pass the time.  Needing a job may be a bit of a stretch, you hardly need to work, but perhaps you could act as though you want one, are looking to learn the ropes, have her mentor you, something like that.”

 

“If I find out she was behind my father’s killing, I’m going to kill her myself,” Merlin said casually, crushing the now empty cup in his hand as the car rolled to a stop.

 

“You’ll have to get in line, Merlin.  If Gorlois is involved as we suspect, she’s responsible for the deaths of many people, at least indirectly.  Your father’s arrest delayed things - the chatter died down for a while after that.  But there’s an uptick again and we think they’ve regrouped and may be planning something new.”

 

Merlin was quiet for a moment, watching as the road grew rougher.  “Where are we going?”

 

“Do you know where the Isle gets its name?”

 

Merlin shrugged.  “History wasn’t really my focus.”

 

“Centuries ago, there was a sect that lived on the Isle.  Powerful, a theocracy of sorts if the few histories from that time are to be believed, though it’s hard to tell fact from fiction in what there is.  High priests and priestesses called the Blessed lived in the monasteries high in these mountains, though they were palatial - more like a castle fortress  than a place of solitude.  They faded away, but the ruins remain, and they’re truly beautiful.  There are a few that are well known and attract most of the tourists, but I’ve found things that one has to work a little harder for bring the greatest pleasure.”

 

Merlin’s face grew serious for a moment, then he shook his head and took a sip of his coffee.  “Well, I’ve always been one for finding the greatest pleasure.” 

 

Arthur realized that he should have chosen his words more carefully if he planned to hold to his plan of last night, given the small, seductive smile Merlin sent his way.  He needed to talk to Merlin, but that could wait until later.    

 

“Yes, well, I hope you’re up for a bit of a hike.”  He pulled the vehicle to the side, and turned off the engine, grabbing his camera bag.  “We’ll start from here.”

 

Merlin came round the car and fell in behind him as they started the scramble up the winding path.  Above them, the stone ruins were just visible in the rising light.  The path was steep, with several switchbacks, but after a quick climb they were soon cresting the hill, standing in the circle of the ruins on the edge of the cliff that plunged to the sea. 

 

He heard the slight huff of Merlin as he came to a halt beside him.  Arthur raised his camera, adjusting the focus as the light began to break over the stones.  

 

“It’s magnificent, Arthur.”  Merlin’s voice was hushed, reverent as he walked closer to the edge, backlit by the rising sun,  Arthur found himself focusing his lens on Merlin, capturing his image against the sky before he pulled his focus back to ruins he’d come to photograph.  

 

“It is.  There’s a sense of quiet here I find restful.”

 

Merlin turned back to him.  “That’s . . . that’s it exactly, isn’t it?  It’s quiet, but you can feel all the people who were here before.”

 

Arthur took one final shot as the sun broke the horizon and the mist began to dissipate, then walked towards Merlin.  “Want to explore?”

 

The air was cool as they scrambled over the boulders and blocks that littered the base of the ruins, working their way up towards a stairway still half intact that led to one of the few remaining towers.  Perched on the edge, the drop to the sea was extreme, and Arthur found himself grinning at Merlin’s gingerly descent to sit beside him.

 

“Fear of heights?” he asked when Merlin finally settled.  

 

“Fear of falling to my death,” Merlin replied.  “That’s a long way down.”

 

“I prefer to think of it as being on top of the world,” Arthur murmured, staring out to the horizon.  The music of the waves crashing far below was rhythmic, and he felt a calm settle over him.  “Merlin, I owe you an apology for last evening.”

 

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked.  

 

“The way I handled things last night was badly done.”

 

“It didn’t feel badly done,” Merlin murmured.  “I understand though.”  

 

“No, you don’t.  There’s a rhythm to having that sort of relationship that requires trust and honesty to make it believable.  I should have talked with you first, discussed what we would do, asked your permission.  We started off with a bit of deception, and I believe that we need to clear the air.”

 

“The night at the club you mean?” Merlin asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

Merlin picked up a small pebble and tossed it up in the air.  “So do you that often?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Try to seduce someone for your job.”

 

Arthur stared out at the ocean.  “From time to time.  I see it more as finding a way to get someone to drop their guard a bit, open up, rather than seduction.  Everyone likes to feel wanted.”

 

“What about you?”  Merlin asked.

 

Arthur turned his head in surprise.  “What about me?”

 

“Do you like to feel wanted?”

 

Arthur paused a minute and then laughed.  “You know, I don’t know that anyone’s ever asked me that before. I don’t think about it that way.”

 

“But do you?” Merlin persisted, still tossing the pebble rhythmically.       

 

“I suppose I would, if I had the chance.  I can’t say that my line of work lends itself well to that.  Long term relationships are a bit of a professional sacrifice,” Arthur replied, his hand touching his side.

 

“I understand that, not having the chance.” Merlin tossed the pebble one last time and then arced it up into the air, watching as it fell towards the sea. “It worked you know.”

 

“What?” Arthur asked.  

 

“Your seduction.  When I saw you that night, you stood out.  Right away.  And I felt it, in the way you looked at me, the way you touched me when we danced. You made me feel wanted.”  

 

Arthur sat silently, unsure what to say.

 

“It was a shock then, waking up the next morning to find you there, so different than the night before.  Do you even like men, Arthur?”

 

Arthur nodded.  “I do.  That’s not the issue.  Flirting with you wasn’t difficult, Merlin.  I just don’t usually have to interact afterwards.”

 

“That I understand as well,” Merlin replied.  “I haven’t had many morning afters in the last few months.  But I gave it some thought last night, after you left.  About what bothered me, when you kissed me.”

 

“Merlin-“

 

“No, let me finish.  It didn’t bother me that you kissed me, Arthur.  It bothered me that you stopped.  That you shut that door behind us and it was like the kind, charming man I’d spent the last hour with was gone.  And I understand that this isn’t real - that we’re trying to sell something here, make something believable.  But I’ve lived without feeling much for a great deal of time, and I don’t know that I can do what you’re asking.”

 

“That’s alright, Merlin.  I wanted to talk to you about that.  We don’t have to use a relationship as the reason for us to be out and about together.”  

 

“I’m not suggesting that, Arthur.  I want to be clear - I understand the whys and the limits.  I understand that on some level it’s not real.  But what if it is, at least a little bit?”

 

“Merlin, I don’t think-“

 

Merlin stood up, and stepped back from the edge of the parapet.  “Arthur, I’ve spent the last few months running from my life, and years before that merely existing, doing as I was told.  And you’ve offered me a chance to try to reclaim some of that, to do something substantial.”  He knelt next to Arthur, and rested his hand on his shoulder.  “And you made me feel wanted.  I don’t think what I felt was just me, I think I could make you feel the same.  Not forever, but for now.  And I’d like that very much. No more turning it on and off.  Just let things flow.  Let what happens, happen.”

 

The warmth of Merlin’s hand on his shoulder felt good, right even, even though he knew he needed to say no.  The hand slid from his shoulder to his face, and then Merlin’s lips were on his.

 

Arthur understood what seduction was as Merlin’s lips moved over his.  And he found that he didn’t want to pull away.

 

When Merlin broke the kiss, his voice was low, his lips still nearly touching Arthur’s.  “So what do you say, Arthur Pendragon?  Why don’t we enjoy seducing each other for awhile?”

 

Arthur sat back, trying to catch his breath.  “Are you certain, Merlin? This is what you want?”

 

“It is.  You are.”

 

Arthur knew it was a mistake, but he couldn’t seem to make himself say no, as he pulled Merlin in for another kiss.

____

 

Merlin felt lighter as he followed Arthur back down the mountain.  He might regret it later, but it had felt right somehow, this truce of sorts.  Like he could stop worrying about Arthur and focus on what they were meant to do now.  He glanced around the trail.  The terrain seemed familiar.  Had his father taken him here when he was younger and he’d forgotten?

 

“So what’s next?” Merlin asked. 

 

Arthur smiled.  “We explore the Isle.  Gorlois’s has an estate in a cove to the north of the island, but it’s very sheltered.  I’d like to rent a boat, maybe dive in that area to try to get closer, see what we can see.  There’s a fence around the estate on the land side, complete with cameras and guards, so it’s not an easy thing to scope out.”

 

“Are there satellite images?”  Merlin asked.

 

Arthur nodded.  “Some, but the vegetation growth is heavy.  We have a basic idea of the layout of the estate, but we haven’t been able to discern any unusual activity.”

 

“What about the others?”

 

“Cendred? He has a home there, but smaller than Gorlois’s estate.  He’s on the island far less of the year - he spends more of his time in Mercia.  When he’s here, he sometimes stays with Gorlois there.  And Alvarr comes and goes more.  He has a yacht that he anchors off the coast.”  Arthur opened the driver’s side door.  “Do you remember them?”

 

“Cendred and Alvarr?  No.  Well, perhaps a bit.  Gorlois was someone I remember my father having dinner with often, and I think Cendred may have been there from time to time.  She brought her sister with her once, I remember.”

 

“Morgana?”

 

“Yes, that was her name,” Merlin said.  “She was younger than me by a few years.  Strange too.  Like she was off in her own world.  I think they expected us to play together, but I was fifteen or so, and she seemed so young then.  Now that I think of it, she probably wasn’t that much younger.”

 

Arthur started the vehicle.  “She’s twenty, I believe, so I can see where she would have seemed young to you then.”

 

“How old are you, Arthur?” Merlin asked.  

 

Arthur smiled at him as he turned the wheel.  “How old do you think I am?”

 

Merlin laughed.  “There’s no good answer to that is there?  Older than me, but not by that much, I suspect.”

 

“Not too far off.  I’m twenty-seven.”

 

“And how long have you been with Excalibur?”  Merlin asked.

 

“Since I finished university and military service.  I’ve been a field agent for almost four years now.  Two years in the army, after university.  They don’t require it for field agents, but it’s preferred.”

 

“Sounds like you were the perfect candidate.  Do you like it?”

 

Merlin could see the quick tension in Arthur’s face that smoothed almost as quickly as it had come.  “It’s all I’ve ever known.  But I do.”

 

“What do you mean, all you’ve ever known?”

 

Arthur shot him a glance, then shrugged.  “Let’s just say that it’s a bit of a family business and leave it at that.”

 

“Sure,” Merlin said.  “Your father, he’s Uther Pendragon, isn’t he?”

 

Arthur flinched visibly.  “How did you know that?”

 

“You told me your name, remember?  Your real name, I assume.  And my grandfather was in the government for many years.  The head of Excalibur wasn’t precisely a secret.  He’d be about the right age.”

 

“We should have recruited you sooner,” Arthur said in response. 

 

“What happened to my father, Arthur?”  Merlin’s tone was sober.  “What exactly happened?”

 

Arthur pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the hotel.  “I understand why you want to know, Merlin. And I think deserve to.  But I have to get clearance on what I can share.  Can you give me time for that?  Trust me?”

 

Merlin stared at the dash.  That’s what this was about, wasn’t it?  Trusting Arthur.  “Alright.  But soon, I need to know.”

 

“I’ll ask when I check in today.  Now, Merlin, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7: The Wheel Is Spinning Me

 

“So where are we going tonight?” Merlin asked.

 

Arthur pulled out his phone and scrolled through the information Lance had forwarded.  Gorlois had invested heavily in the island.  While her estate was to the north where most of the wealthy had homes, with private beaches and the shelter of the mountains offering unparalleled privacy, the southern tip of the island was more open, with the deepest bay where larger ships could dock, and where the island’s tourist trade thrived on the disembarking passengers. Gorlois owned a few of the restaurants near the docks, upscale, trendy and very popular.

 

“Mortaeus.  Named after one of the flowers on the island, apparently.  It’s one of Gorlois’s restaurants,” Arthur replied.  

 

“Am I going to be getting tiny plates with tinier servings?” Merlin grimaced.  

 

“Probably,” Arthur replied.  “Sacrifices must be made.  How about I promise you a treat after dinner?”

 

“A treat, hmm?” Merlin replied.  “I’m not twelve, you know.”

 

“Oh believe me, I’m well aware,”Arthur replied, letting his eyes travel down Merlin’s form as he downshifted in the idling traffic.  “I wasn’t planning on taking you for ice cream.”

 

“That’s too bad,” Merlin winked.  “I was looking forward to getting to lick something.”

 

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

 

“I believe that is what I’m doing,” Merlin replied, looking straight ahead.  “Are you going to give it to me?”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes.  “We’re here.  Behave during dinner, Merlin.”

 

Mortaeus was, much as Merlin had predicted, one of those too precious places where everything was blindingly decorated in shades of white, and the menu was populated by dishes Arthur was certain would be lovely and leave him starving.  Maybe he would take Merlin for ice cream after, watch him lick that cone.

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him over the top of the menu and he bit his lip to avoid laughing.  

 

Nearly an hour later, as they were being served coffee, the server approached with a note on a small tray.

 

“For you, sir.”

 

Merlin smiled, and plucked the piece of paper up.  Heavy cream linen, Arthur noted, with a sloping, feminine handwriting.  It was almost too easy and even faster than he’d expected.  He hoped there cover wasn’t blown already.  He glanced towards the bar.  There she was.  Morgause Gorlois.  He knew that she was somewhere in her forties, but she looked barely a day over thirty.  Artfully arranged blonde hair, wide blue eyes, she hardly looked like one of the most powerful financial players in Camelot.  He suspected more than one man had been taken in by that exterior.  

 

He turned his attention back to Merlin, who was staring at Gorlois as well.  He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, and rose.  Leaning forward, he angled away from Gorlois.  “She wants me to have a drink at the bar with her.  Alone.”

 

“It’s fine,” Arthur replied.  “Just be yourself, Merlin.  Let her lead.  Keep it simple.  No agenda here, just see how she reacts to you tonight.”

 

“I don’t think it would happen so soon,” Merlin said, his voice slightly shaky.

 

Arthur clapped his hand, giving it a small squeeze.  “You’ll do great.  I’ll be outside when you’re done.”

____

 

“Merlin, it’s really you.”  Morguase Gorlois rose from her seat, drawing him and and kissing him softly on both cheeks.  “So like your father when he was your age.  Please, have a seat.”  She gestured to the bartender.  “Whiskey neat,” she ordered.

 

“A drink in his honor?” Merlin said, “Ms. Gorlois, it’s so good to see you.  It must be what, five years.”

 

“Too long, Merlin.  And you must call me Morguase.”  She positively beamed.  “You’re really here.  She said . . . I knew I should have believed her.  The Isle has called you, Merlin.”

 

Merlin tried to keep his face neutral, confused by her comments.  “I remembered coming here with Father.  It was always peaceful.”

 

“It is, Merlin.  It’s a magical place, one that heals the broken.  It’s why I so rarely leave now.”

 

“Who would want to?” Merlin asked, taking a sip of the whiskey.  “There’s so much beauty here.”  He smiled directly at her and she lifted her glass in a small salute.  

 

Silver tongued, just like your father.” she replied.  “What happened to him was a travesty, they way they hounded him until he took his own life.  You must know that he was not guilty of those terrible things they’ve accused him of.  He was no traitor, no spy.”

 

Merlin nodded, his throat closing.  “It’s so good to speak with someone who knew him, really knew him, who understands that.”

 

“My dear boy, I do.  And you’re here now.”  She toyed with her glass.  “You must come to see me, stay even.  Where are you staying?”

 

“The Phoenix.”

 

Morguase threw back her head and laughed.  “Of course, of course.  Your father did love that place.  Said it had a charm to it.”  She touched his cheek.  “Dear boy, you must come and visit me.  Morgana is away, but she will be back very soon, and she will want to see you again.  Consider giving up your suite.  We have a guest cottage, you’ll be quite comfortable.”

 

A melodic ring tone sounded from the small purse lying next to her arm.  “Do excuse me, Merlin.”  Turning slightly, she extracted the phone.  “Hello?”  She shifted into another language, one he didn’t recognize, but that she appeared fluent in.  The conversation was short, and terse, if the tension in her shoulders was any indication.”  

 

She touched his fingers still curled around the tumbler of whiskey.  “Merlin, you must forgive me.  Business never seems to end.  But think about my invitation.  Perhaps you could even bring your dinner companion.  Is he a friend of yours?”

 

“Recent acquaintance.  He’s a travel journalist, doing a piece on the island, and I’m tagging along a bit.  We met on the plane.”  Merlin wasn’t sure if he was saying enough or too much.

 

“Charming, and so kind of him.  His name?”  

 

“Arthur.  Arthur Penn,” Merlin replied.  

 

“Wonderful.”  She slid her card across the table.  “Here’s my card, my personal number is on the back.  I have to leave the Isle for a few days, more’s the pity, but when I return, you must come and stay with me.”

 

“You’re too kind,” Merlin replied.  “Thank you, Ms. - I mean, Morgause.  Just seeing you again, it makes me feel closer to my father.”

 

Her face softened, and she patted his cheek.  “And I to him.  I look forward to seeing you again, dear boy.”

____

 

He found Arthur sitting near the restaurant, holding two cones of ice cream in his hands, but their earlier flirtation seemed distant as he made his way to the bench along the boardwalk.

 

“Vanilla or chocolate?” Arthur asked.

 

“Chocolate, please.”  Merlin took the cone and realized his hand was shaking.

 

“Should we leave?” Arthur asked, taking the cone back and dumping them both in a nearby trash container.

 

“Yes,” Merlin said.  

 

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, and Merlin tried to sift through where his sudden unease stemmed from.  He let Arthur lead him in, loosely taking his hand as he pulled him towards the elevator.  

 

“Your key, Merlin?”  Arthur leaned closer, almost nuzzling his ear as he whispered.  “I’d fish for it in your pocket, but I don’t want to give the other riders too much of a thrill.”

 

Merlin started as he saw the three teenage girls grouped on the other side of the elevator, avidly staring at them, then fumbled for the card and handed it to Arthur, who inserted it into the slot and press the button for the penthouse.  The elevator slowed and their observers exited, giggling to one another behind their hands.  Merlin slumped against the wall.

 

“What happened, Merlin?”

 

“Nothing, really.”  The door slid open and he pulled Arthur into the suite.  Without a word, he turned around, waving his arms.  “Has it been?”

 

“Swept?” Arthur asked.  “If that’s what you’re asking, yes.  Leon sent me a text.  We’re clear for the night.”

 

“Good.”  Merlin sat on the couch heavily, waiting until Arthur dropped by his side.  “I’m overreacting, I know it.  But I’m not sure if I can do this, Arthur.  There is something odd with Morgause, but I don’t know if she’s simply strange, or if it’s somehow connected.”  He briefly recounted his conversation from the bar.

 

“What do you remember from before?  Does she seem different?”

 

Merlin shrugged.  “I remember her flirting with my father.  I think they were probably sleeping together, at least sometimes.”

 

“Did she come on to you?”  Arthur asked.

 

Merlin shook his head.  “No, not really.  She kept calling me dear boy.  It was more . . . maternal, but in a strange way.  All the comments about expecting me, and the island healing me.  I don’t remember her being like that before.”

 

“And you didn’t recognize the language she spoke?”

 

“Never heard it before.”

 

Arthur pulled out his phone, typing away.  “Since she asked about me, I’ll have Leon be looking for anything that triggers a background search on my alias.  If she’s checking me out, that tells us she’s very cautious at least.  This is definitely the entrance we needed.  We’ll give it a few days after she returns, don’t want to seem too eager, then you’ll follow up on the invite.  Something small, maybe ask if you can visit for lunch, and bring me along.  We’ll get inside the compound, get a better idea of what we’re working with there.”

 

“What about staying there?”

 

Arthur frowned.  “You’d probably have better access, but having you isolated may not work for the best.  We’ll have to cross that bridge later.  But for now, we have something, and we’re going to work with it.”

 

“That stuff she was going on about believing someone about the island calling me, do you think she knows why I’m here?”

 

Arthur took a breath.  “It seems unlikely that she would share that if she knew you were working with us.  Perhaps you’d come up in conversation, and someone wondered if you might come here.  It’s a popular destination for those with means, relatively private, so no great surprise you might arrive at some time.  We’ll be careful though.”  He turned Merlin’s face to him.  “You know that right?  We’re not going to put you at risk.  Morgause Gorlois sees you as the son of an old friend.  If she becomes suspicious, we’ll get you out, no questions.  You’ll be safe?”

 

“Like my father?”

 

Arthur bowed his head.  “Well deserved that.”

 

“Did you get clearance like you said you would?  What happened to my father, Arthur?”

 

Arthur stood and walked towards the balcony, drawing back the curtain.  “I did.  I was out of the country when this happened, but I’ve seen the files.  Gaius has agreed that your cooperation justifies sharing with you.”

 

“And?”

 

“Your father was afraid, Merlin.  When he was taken into custody, he almost seemed relieved, but it was clear that whoever he’d been involved with, the schemes he’d assisted with in laundering the money for, still concerned him.  He agreed to cooperate only if his safety was ensured - and yours, Merlin.  Had things moved forward more, you’d have likely been pulled in, given a protection detail.  But it didn’t get that far.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“There was a leak in the organization.  Inexcusable, but it was someone who’d been with Excalibur a very long time, someone my father thought was above purchasing.  He was very wrong.”

 

“Who was it?”

 

“His name was Aulfric.  He was-“  Arthur broke off and paced to the other side of the room, finding the bar and looking through the bottles.  “He was my father’s partner in the field for many years, as his daughter was mine for the last few.  Aulfric and my father worked their way up together, but of course, there can be only one director.I suppose it should have been a consideration, that Aulfric would be jealous, perhaps believed he should have been given the position, but Uther never would have believed it. ”

 

He measured a careful finger into the glass, as though giving himself time to choose his words.  “Aulfirc was assigned your father’s case and he leaked some information to the right people, or maybe he’d been in league with them all along.  I suppose we’ll never know.  Your father was being transferred to a new facility due to his cooperation, somewhere more secure.  The car was hijacked, and your father killed.  But Aulfirc hadn’t covered his tracks quite as well as he’d thought.  Gaius - he heads the agency now, as you know, discovered his connection.  Aulfric killed himself, but not before he destroyed all the information obtained from your father, even the duplicates.  It was a significant setback, a real blow to the agency.  The only thing savings is that Aulfric seemed to have not shared what your father had agreed to do.”

 

“Your father?” Merlin asked.

 

“Devastated.  He refused to believe Gaius initially, which gave Aulfric the chance to do what he did.  My father was cleared of complicity in the matter, but demoted.  He serves as a consultant to the agency now.  He hates it.”

 

“And your partner? Aulfric’s daughter?”

 

“Sophia?” Arthur’s hand went to his side.  “She’s dead.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I killed her, Merlin.”  

 

He felt a touch on his shoulder, and a hand drop to his side, covering his own.  “Why?”

 

“We were undercover when everything happened in Camelot with Aulfric and your father.  Had been for several months.  I suppose she must have known about her father and had her own exit plan, which included selling me out to the person we were tracking.  We both fired.  I was the better shot.”

 

Merlin’s hand slid under his shirt, tracing the edge of the scar.  “Here?”

 

“Yes.  Several months of rehab.  Grazed some important bits.”

 

“Are you fine now?”

 

“I am.”  He closed his eyes as the fingers continued to stroke over his side, dipping closer to his hip.  “Merlin?”

 

“I think we could both use a distraction tonight, don’t you, Arthur?”

 

He turned, trapping the hand against him.  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather make that move for the right reasons.  And tonight, that bed would be crowded with other memories.”  He pulled Merlin against him and kissed him, letting the pain and anger bleed away against Merlin’s soft lips.

 

“Agreed,” Merlin agreed as he pulled away, catching his breath.  “But it will happen.”

 

“It will,” Arthur agreed.  He brushed one last kiss against Merlin’s forehead, and pulled away.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

____

 

_She found him on the deck of the ship, the ocean-eyed girl, watching as the Isle grew smaller in the distance.  “You truly believe this is right, what we are doing?”_

 

_He gestured to the sky, to the ash that visibly grayed the air above their home.  “We must leave now, or perish.”_

 

_“Perhaps it’s what the Isle wants.”_

 

_“You always have the most bloodthirsty perspective on what our land desires.”  He smiled at her, and gave her hand a small squeeze.  “I know that this requires postponing the bonding ceremony between us.  It will happen when we return.”_

 

_“You are not sorrowed by that, are you, Merlin?”  Her tone was sharp._

 

_He could feel her disapproval.  “You know that I treasure you as one of my closest companions.  But forcing a union does not feel like something the Isle would wish upon any of us, regardless of what the elders say.  The Isle is wild and free and I believe that she means for us to be the same, to find the destinies we were meant for.”_

 

_She started to turn away and he caught her, raising her chin to look into her eyes.  “I understand my duty, but I would wish for both you and I something more than that, someone to make you light up inside as I know you can.”_

 

_Her eyes turned almost glacial, the warmth fading from them.  “You mean you, don’t you, Merlin?  You are not the only one who has dreamed of him, the one with hair like the sun.  I have seen the future, and I know he will try to take you from us.”_

 

_Her voice floated after him as he pulled away, startled by her revelation of what she’d seen.  “No good will come of it.”_

 

Merlin woke with a start, a cold chill running over him.  He rolled to the side and waited for the morning to come.

____

 

The next morning, Arthur found himself seated next to a grumpy Merlin until he thrust a cup of steaming coffee in to his hand.

 

“You are a caffeine addict, aren’t you?” he asked, watching him gulp the hot beverage.

 

“You get used to it, when you don’t sleep much,” Merlin replied.  

 

“Insomniac?” Arthur asked.  

 

“It comes and goes,” Merlin replied.  “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.

 

“Everything alright? Last night. . .”

 

Merlin shook his head.  “Arthur, I’m okay.  I needed to know, and now I do.  And it just makes me want to nail the bastards who did this even more.  I don’t know why my father did what he did, but he was trying to redeem his wrongs, at least a little, and they took that chance away.  Let’s leave it behind.  We have a few days before Gorlois comes back, so where are we off to today?

 

“There’s a waterfall, near the midpoint of the island, one of the highest peaks.  Beautiful.  You can dive off of it.”

 

Merlin sighed.  “You really enjoy heights, don’t you?”  

 

“I’m not trying to kill you, I swear.  Did you bring something to swim in?”

 

“I did.  As your message at a ridiculously early hour indicated.”  He scowled at the cup, then took another deep sip.  “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not, Merlin?” Arthur drawled.  “I would never have guessed.”

 

“Piss off,” Merlin replied.  “The coffee’s the only redeeming thing about you this early.”

 

“Maybe you’ll forgive me when you see where we’re going.”

 

Merlin had to admit, the waterfall was nothing short of spectacular.  And very tall.  He tilted his head back, staring up to the crest of the falls.  “People do not dive off of that.”

 

Arthur laughed.  “Well, not from up there.  Here, look.”  He pointed to a spot halfway down the falls.  “Watch.”

 

Within minutes a body came hurtling out of the spray, gracefully arcing towards the water.  Merlin heard the sound of Arthur’s camera clicking away beside him.  “Please tell me you haven’t done that.”

 

“Merlin, please.  I’ve parachuted from planes.  That’s hardly a challenge. C’mon.”  He started scrambling up the path, and Merlin raced to catch up.

 

“That’s different though, isn’t it?  I don’t know, having a giant parachute to stop your fall, rather than a bit of water?”

 

“It’s very deep,” Arthur replied.  “Safe as houses.”  He stopped dead and turned around, laughing out loud.  “If you could only see your face, Merlin.  We’re not diving off the waterfall.  I want to get some shots halfway up, and there’s something I want to show you.  But I won’t make you jump. You can trust me.”

 

Merlin followed.  By the time they were two-thirds of the way up the mountain, the had left most of the other hikers and divers behind.

 

“Is it much farther?” Merlin asked.

 

“Just off the path up here, I think.”  Arthur pulled out a book from the pack on his bag.  “Yes.  This should be the place.”  He poked aside several bushes until he at last revealed the start of a well-worn path.  “Come this way.”

 

“Arthur, have you been here before?  You do know where we’re going, don’t you?”  

 

“Of course, I do.  Well, after a sort.”  He held up the book.  “Lance, he’s out research specialist, quite good, dug me up several things about the island.  This book in particular is fascinating, sort of a history and guide book combined, but written nearly a century ago.  Lots of the old legends, that sort of thing.  I’m thinking that will be the spin on my article, the ghosts of the Isle.”

 

Merlin stepped closer and glanced around to be sure they were alone.  “You actually write those articles?”

 

“Most of them.  When I’m actually using the cover, I do.  Helps with the verisimilitude.”  He nudged Merlin with his shoulder.  “You get more than beauty and brawn in this package, you know.  Comes with brains too.”

 

“Move on with yourself, then,” Merlin urged, giving him a playful shove, “before your head gets too big for you to stand upright.”

 

It was clear that the path was sill used from time to time, but it was far less used than the main climb they’d been on before.  Merlin could hear the rush of the falls growing closer, as the path made an unexpected curve, and was surprised when the trees parted and he was staring into the water.

 

“Magnificent,” Arthur said, fumbling for his camera.  “Look at the light cutting through the falls.”  

 

Merlin stood back, watching as Arthur did his thing, rolling his eyes when Arthur swung the camera his way.  “I don’t photograph well,” he said, holding a hand up to block the lenses.

 

“You are joking, aren’t you?  Arthur asked.  “Merlin, you are one of the most photogenic people I’ve possibly ever met.  I’m convinced half the reason the paps still follow you as how beautiful you look in those shots, even when you aren’t expecting it.”

 

“Delusional,” Merlin replied.  “Here, I bet you’re the sort who’s always behind the lens.  Hand it over and let me get one of you.”  

 

Arthur shook his head, then grimaced when Merlin popped his phone out and snapped a shot.  “Look at that - someone else looks good on film.  Might have to keep that one.”

 

“Delete it, Merlin.  And come with me.”

 

Ignoring him, Merlin fell in step behind again.  The path grew narrower, and Merlin noted it’s abrupt stop, right at the edge of the water.  Arthur dug into his bag again.  “There’s supposed to be a cave just past, hidden by the water.”

 

“So you want to jump into the water, and assume there’s solid ground on the other side?” Merlin asked.

 

Arthur reached down and found a good sized rock.  He gave it a short toss, and Merlin listened, hearing the distinct thunk of it striking stone.  “I’m going to try it” Arthur said, shucking his bag off his shoulders and sliding it under the bush.  “Wait here.”

 

Before Merlin could protest, Arthur was off, making a running go and flying through the water.  Merlin listened and was relieved to hear the impact of Arthur hitting ground.  “Are you alright?” he called.

 

“Merlin, you have to do this.  It’s only a space of a few feet, you could practically walk across.  Just take a short go and come on.”

 

Merlin paced for a minute, then dropped his bag beside Arthur’s and started to run, closing his eyes as he left the ground.  The waterfall was a cold shock that he hadn’t contemplated and he sucked in a breath as his feet hit the ground and a warm body caught him.

 

“You made it.  Open your eyes, Merlin.”

 

He steadied himself against Arthur and looked around.  The small niche behind the waterfall was only about ten feet deep, but the walls were covered with small crystals that dimly glowed in the light reflected through the waterfall.

 

“It’s beautiful,” he said.  “Arthur, this is amazing.”

 

“Glad you trusted me, aren’t you?”

 

“Even if I’m soaking wet,” Merlin admitted.  He shivered.  “A bit cold.”

 

“Let me see if I can warm you up, then,” Arthur said.  He pulled Merlin closer, wrapping his arms around him.  “Body heat’s good, isn’t it?”

 

Merlin rocked against Arthur, feeling himself growing hard.  “It is.  They teach you this sort of thing in the army.”

 

Arthur chucked, then blew against his ear.  “Wouldn’t you like to know? How about I just show you some of the things I’ve learned.” 

 

Merlin exhaled as he felt Arthur’s hands drift lower, somehow still hot against his cold skin, tracing the outline of his cock in his wet shorts, then sliding against the loose waist.  He closed his eyes as Arthur turned him, let himself rest back against the solid bulk of Arthur’s body and enjoy the slow stroke of Arthur’s hands, the press of Arthur’s desire against him evidence that this wasn’t just one-sided.  

 

Lips traced the skin of his neck, and he gave a little shiver when he felt Arthur brush against the shell of his ear.  “I’ll have to remember that for later,” Arthur breathed, giving him a small nip.  

 

He found himself letting Arthur set the rhythm, the pull and glide of that hand, the knowing twist at the end that made Merlin catch his breath every time.  It was embarrassingly quick how soon he felt the rush and tingle that signaled his climax, and he arched against Arthur, feeling the warm hand close over his head.  Merlin slumped back, letting himself rest for a moment before he pulled away.  

 

“It’s not usually so-“  His protest was cut off as Arthur pulled him in, his mouth harsh and needy against his.  He could feel Arthur rocking against him and he shifted his thigh, letting him ride against him as he continued to devour his mouth.  He buried his hands in Arthur’s hair, wanting to taste the moment when Arthur let go.  He didn’t have long to wait, and he slumped back, Arthur’s weight resting against him, until he realized they were backed against the wall of the cave.

 

“Ow,” he muttered, and Arthur pulled back, pupils still dark with lust.  It looked good on him, Merlin thought.  It was something he wanted to see again.

 

“Sorry,” Arthur stepped back, pulling them both back from the wall.  “I didn’t mean to attack you like that.  You just looked so-”

 

Merlin stopped him from moving away.  “Arthur, no.  I wanted this, as I think you could tell.  You were right, last night would have been a mistake.  But this?  This wasn’t.”  He gave him a soft kiss, then stepped back.  “I am glad I trusted you.  Now, tell me more about this place.”

 

Arthur moved closer to the waterfall, rinsing himself off.  “I’m surprised that it’s still here.  It looks very much like the book described though - a cave of crystals.”

 

Merlin moved closer, touching the wall.  “It’s very unique.  Even with the waterfall hiding it, I’m surprised there aren’t a steady stream of people coming to see this.”

 

“I wanted to see it because there’s a legend associated with it, maybe one of the reasons that locals stay away.  Perhaps that’s why it’s not talked about more.  Supposedly a powerful priest of the sect who ruled here, considered able to do magic, lived in this cave.  He was reported to have never died, simply to have become part of the crystals and earth.”

 

Merlin moved back.  “So he’s supposed to still be in here?”

 

Arthur laughed.  “Well, I hardly think he’s going to materialize out of those crystals, Merlin.  I imagine it’s like most legends, that there’s some kernel of truth to it.  Most likely he came here to die in peace, and perhaps his followers wanted to enhance his image with a bigger than life tale.  It’s evocative though, the crystal cave, hidden and haunted by the magical Druid.”

 

“He was a Druid?  Isn’t that what the terrorists call themselves?” Merlin asked, face suddenly serious.

 

Arthur nodded.  “I’m sorry, Merlin, I didn’t mean to bring that up.  The group that your father was linked to, that Gorlois may be connected with, claims that they’re descendants of the original Druids of the Isle, sent to purge and cleanse Camelot of its sins.  Fanatics of course, but dangerous ones.”

 

“One hundred and fifty-one,” Merlin murmured.

 

“What’s that,”Arthur asked.

 

“One-hundred and fifty-one.  That’s how many they’ve claimed to have killed in their attacks.  Children even, at that school.”  Merlin shook his head.  “I don’t understand why my father was willing to work with them, Arthur.  He was amazing, he really was.  When he was in a room, no one else seemed to matter.  He was so blindingly bright that it was hard to pay attention to anyone else.  Short on attention, but when he focused on you, it was like the world stopped.  He loved to find a new challenge - after he and my mother divorced, I don’t think I ever saw him with the same woman twice, and I could never keep up with all his business interests, but he always seemed in control of everything.”

 

Merlin traced his fingers over the crystals again.  “I knew something was wrong though.  He came to see me after I graduated.  I was about to move, still packing up my room, and he showed up driving that car, the red one, tossed me the keys as though it were an afterthought.  He took me out to the church where my mother was buried, hardly said a word the whole time.  He hadn’t come to her funeral even, just sent flowers with a note he was halfway round the world.  I’m not sure my grandfather would have let him come really.  But he knew just where her grave was, and we stood there for the longest time, Arthur.  And then we went back to my rooms, and share a bottle of whiskey.”

 

He shrugged, “I don’t even like whiskey that much, but I drank nearly the whole damn bottle with him that night.  He talked about his own university days, how he’d met my mother, and how much she’d meant to him.  Things he’d never said.  Felt surreal, like someone I didn’t know, or maybe like I was meeting my father for the first time.  He left early the next morning.  I found out about his arrest a few days later, when I walked out to a camera stuck in my face and a reporter yelling at me for a statement about how I felt about my father’s crimes.”

 

Arthur clasped a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his tense muscles.  “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

 

“Fraud would have been bad enough.  But when they brought me in, asked me about the connection to that cell of the Druids that was broken,” he shuddered.  “I didn’t handle it well.  Couldn’t believe it.  Wouldn’t believe it.  Until I visited him and he told me to forget about him.  I’m not too proud of the person I became after that, but Mord convinced me that I could control the story, instead of letting them control me.  Fucking stupid advice, it was.”

 

“But you are now, you see that don’t you, Merlin?”

 

“See what?”

 

“You’re taking control of your life, your destiny, here, by helping us break this case.  You could have walked away from me, told me to forget it.  You have the means, Merlin, to disappear, change your name, start a new life.  But you’re making a choice to be here, to help us finish what you father started.  And that makes you different from him, in all the ways that matter.”

 

Chapter 8:  What If I Say I'm Not Just Another One of Your Plays?

 

Merlin stood on the balcony off his suite, watching the sun sinking in the sky.  He’d been on the Isle a little less than a week and already he felt like a different person.  As strange as Morgause’s words had been, he felt as though there was some ring of truth to them.  The Isle was healing him.  The Isle, and Arthur.

 

 The click of the balcony doors sounds behind him, but he continued to stare out to sea, sensing rather than seeing Arthur’s presence beside him.

 

“Did you have fun today?" he asked, offering him a glass of wine.

 

Merlin waved away the glass. "I think I'll just have water tonight.” Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise, but nodded. "And I did have fun today. For once you didn’t drag me to somewhere high enough to give me a nose bleed.  The snorkeling was amazing.”

 

“So you’re more fish than bird?” Arthur smiled and sat down the glasses. "I'll go get you a bottle of water. Oh, and I have something for you. I forgot to bring it this morning."

 

He waited patiently as Arthur disappeared back inside, a smile dancing at the corner of his lips. How his feelings for a person could change so much in less than a weeks, he wasn't sure, but somehow, Arthur had done that.  It was the strangest thing, almost as though they’d known each other for ever, like old friends reunited.  

 

Friends wasn’t quite right though.  Friends with benefits, perhaps, as the initial attraction he'd felt for Arthur in the club had only intensified.  It was foolish, he supposed, to consider them lovers, or imagine that this would last beyond their time on the Isle.  But today, sitting on the deck of the small boat that they’d rented, watching Arthur tangling with the anchor and cursing a knot, his nose ever so slightly peeling and his blond hair glowing in the brightness of the midday sun, he’d had a sense of contentment settle over him.  If had felt right, as though he’d found where he was meant to be after being lost for so long.

 

Frankly, if he thought to long about it, it scared the fuck out of him.  His mother had been that way, always chasing the next man after she’d lost his father, sure that he would be the one to make her happy.  He’d never done that before.  Fallen into bed, into lust, but never anything that didn’t end once he’d gotten off.  

 

No one had ever made his heart ache in the best way possible.  Until Arthur.  Merlin gripped the railing more tightly, trying to fight his panic.

 

Arthur reemerged onto the terrace as the last rays of the sun began to set, and handed him a bottle of water, uncapping one for himself.  "So, I took some photos to have them developed, and I wanted to give you this one." He looked almost nervous as he handed Merlin the small packet enclosing the picture, then leaned nonchalantly against the railing.

 

It was a photograph of him, one Arthur had taken of him on the beach early the day before, when he'd persuaded him that the light was most beautiful. He was looking over his shoulder at Arthur, his hands in the pocket of his jacket, his hair ruffled from the wind signaling the start of an early morning shower. It was the expression Arthur had captured that held his attention though. His eyes were clear, almost tranquil, in the photograph, and he looked at peace with himself. But there was more there too, a softness that was almost transparent in Merlin’s feelings for Arthur.

 

Arthur took a sip from his bottle, then slowly screwed the cap back on, still looking out at the ocean. "You mentioned that you always hated the pictures people took of you unawares, how they made you look. I wanted you to have one where you could see how truly beautiful you are."

 

Merlin touched his arm gently. "Arthur, thank you. This . . ." his voice caught in his throat. "This is probably the nicest thing anyone's done for me in longer than I can remember."

 

Arthur turned to him, looking in his eyes. "You deserve for people to do nice things for you, Merlin. I know that I want to.”

 

He took a breath, unable to look away. “Please.”

 

Arthur touched his face, smoothing along the curve of his cheekbone, and followed with his lips, until he finally arrived at Merlin’s mouth. The same charge he remembered from the first night they’d touch shot through him again, but now there was more intensity behind it, and that one touch wasn't enough. Merlin leaned forward, seeking his lips, hearing him groan as Merlin reached for him, encircled his in his arms. Their lips met again and again, mouths opening to each other in invitation. His body felt flushed, fevered, as though he was on sensation overload.

 

Arthur pulled away, stepped back, his breathing ragged. "Merlin-"

 

"Arthur, I want this. I want you." He took his hand and led him towards the door inside.  They’d fooled around this week, but this last step, this level of intimacy was one they hadn’t reached yet.  The dim lighting of his room, with the enormous bed he'd been swallowed by every night sleeping alone, was like an open invitation calling to them. He closed the door behind them, wanting to barricade them from the rest of the world, if only for a little while.

 

Arthur’s eyes were hot as he stared at Merlin, leaned back against the door. "You're sure?"

 

He nodded, and Arthur was on him before he could draw a breath, his hands hoisting Merlin’s up and holding him in place as he worshiped the skin of his neck, small nips and licks that had him whimpering and begging in seconds. It felt so good, he felt so good, with every brush of skin on skin, and the slight stubble at his jawline as he dragged it against the curve of his shoulder.

 

He whispered Arthur’s name, over and over, like a chant, an invocation, a plea for pleasure and warmth and completion. Their lips met again, and they fumbled their way towards the bed, falling together as their hands explored, finding their way beneath fabric, shedding items of clothing until they were both exposed.

 

He’d seen Arthur in trunks, bits of flesh here and there, and he knew Arthur had watched him throughout the week as well, but there was something about lying together, stripped of all pretenses and bare to one another that made him feel almost overwhelmed by how beautiful Arthur was.  He reached one finger out to trace the faded scar across his hip.

 

"You're okay?" he asked.

 

Arthur nodded. He continued his exploration, the texture of the thin trail of hair leading down his stomach, the sharpness of his hip bone, the firm muscle of his thighs, before letting himself focus on Arthur’s cock, hard and yet covered in delicate skin that glided beneath his fingertips.

 

He’d become adept at giving blow jobs years ago, and liked that they provided an easy distraction at times when he wanted to get rid of a guy and wasn't up for being screwed. But he found himself overwhelmed by the urge to take him in his mouth and taste him. He engulfed Arthur, humming around his girth and loving the way he jerked in response, the way he whispered his name, low and husky.  He was hard too, almost painfully so and he felt Arthur’s hand slip between his legs, gently stroking at first, making his lose focus and rhythm as he struggled to bring Arthur closer and closer to the brink.

 

"Merlin, come here.” Arthur urged him to look up at him and groaned as he watched his continue to suck him. “Together, I want to feel you against me. Please, Merlin.”

 

He was suddenly aware of how real everything felt as Arthur pulled him up his body, the slide of skin, the musk of Arthur, the sensation of their cocks brushing against one another that had him ready to crawl from his skin and beg for it never to end rolled together.  He felt so good, as though Arthur was filling up all the empty places inside him as he kissed him again, deep, soulful kisses, while their bodies found a rhythm and moved together in sync, fucking into the grip of Arthur’s large hand that held them so tightly together. Merlin finally had to close his eyes as the emotions swirling in Arthur’s blue ones almost overwhelmed him, intense in the way they looked into his, like he could see everything inside Merlin and still wanted him in spite of all that.

 

His body surprised him, and he was caught off guard as an orgasm rippled through him, intensifying as Arthur thrust faster against him  until he threw back his head, the muscles in his arms rippling as he held himself above him, trying not to crush the cum now decorating both their chests.  

 

Arthur rolled to his side and grabbed a towel to wipe them off, then pulling Merlin back into his arms, wrapping them in a sheet as he kissed his forehead, then his lips. "You okay?" he asked.

 

Merlin smiled and pulled him back down for another kiss before resting against his chest. "Better than okay. Stupendous."

 

Arthur chuckled. "I like that. Stupendous."

 

He found himself trying to get closer still, even though they were still skin to skin, reluctant to break their connection. "I could order up some dinner tonight. We could stay in. You could stay . . . tonight."

 

The shrill ring of a cell ripped through the quiet of the bedroom before Arthur could answer.

 

"Don't get it," Merlin said. "They'll call back."

 

Arthur let it ring twice more and then heaved a sigh. "Order dinner. This won't take long."

 

He slid away from him and Merlin felt the loss sharply as Arthur rose from the bed, grabbing his pants and pulling out his cell phone.

 

"Yes?"

 

His spine stiffened and he began pulling his clothes back on as he talked.

 

"I'll be there in just a few minutes."

 

Merlin pulled the sheet higher around him, suddenly cold as he watched Arthur finish dressing. "Who was that?"

 

“Leon.  He thinks we may have a break, but I have to go meet a contact.”

 

"And it can't wait until tomorrow?" Merlin asked, aware his voice was rising, hating himself for it.

 

Arthur walked over and cupped his cheek. "I'll be back soon. Order dinner, something nice, and then we'll stay in, alright?"

 

Merlin launched himself up, ignoring the way the sheet feel away as he wound his arms around Arthur’s neck, kissing him frantically, overcome by a sense of foolish dread, that if Arthur left the room, everything would change. Arthur kissed him back, then gently sat him down.

 

"Merlin, don't worry, alright? This is what we've been waiting for."

____

 

Arthur stood outside the door of the hotel suite clutching the phone in his hand.  He needed to get a handle himself. This thing with Merlin had gone far beyond what it should have and he was in uncharted territory.

 

What he’d had with Sophia had been expected.  There was no better word to describe their relationship.  Expected by their families, their friends, and at some point, even by him.  They’d grown up together, of course, and her mother has been a bit of a surrogate for him.  He’d been as devastated as she was when her mother passed away just as they were finishing school. 

 

They’d bounced back and forth through school and university, a ready date when needed, making themselves scarce when there was someone else in the picture.  While he hadn’t been overt about his preferences for both girls and boys, Sophia had picked up on it quickly enough, but hasn't seemed bothered by it.  It was perfect at the time, an on-again off-again relationship he knew would be there when he wanted to come back to it. Someone to keep his father at bay. 

 

Looking back, he had no doubt he’d been quite the prick to her, but she never seemed phased until they finished university.  Her father wanted her to start with Excalibur right away, so she was the more senior agent when he finished his military service.  Their parents hadn’t even blinked at immediately pairing them in the field, and the expected began to feel inevitable.  They were paired as a married couple on more than one assignment, and there came a point where the ring on his finger didn’t seem so strange, and his father’s comment about how marriage to Sophia would provide the stability for a long term career started to seem practical.

 

But ultimately it was having someone who understood who he was, what he did, that he didn’t have to hide with or lie to, was what convinced him to propose to her.  Outside of Excalibur, there was almost no one he could be himself with.  He was Arthur, the journalist.  Art, the salesman.  Arte, the traveling businessman.  Never just Arthur to any of his lovers except Sophia.  Sophia who had always been calm as the surface of a lake, a rock in his life.  She’d accepted the ring he’d offered with little fanfare, and despite the eagerness of their parents for them to make things official, little changed.  If she was unhappy, he hadn’t seen it, which he was sure had been part of the problem.  At least that’s what he’d decided during the months in the hospital and rehab.  

 

Or maybe he’d been irrelevant.  When things had gone bad, when he’d realized that they’d been trapped by the smugglers they’d been tracking for months, and she’d turned her gun on him, she’d had the same calm, certain look in her eyes as when she’d taken the ring from him.  He touched the scar at his side.  That was one of the things that woke him at night, the memory that she’d not even blinked at the thought of killing him.

 

The other was that neither had he.  His hand hadn’t quivered on the trigger when he met her eyes and pulled just as she had, knowing that he was always the better shot. Dragging himself away from the warehouse, holding his guts to keep them from spilling on the pavement, he’d wondered if he even had a heart to bleed out.  

 

But in just a week, Merlin had somehow managed to break down all his defenses and remind him that he did, albeit a lonely one.

 

He’d known better, of course, than to get involved, to let the distance slip and slide so that the comfort and intimacy he needed to display in public became the reality in private. But he’d understood Merlin’s reservations, knowing he wasn’t a professional, untrained and unaccustomed to slipping in and out of a role as needed.  Perhaps even thought the involvement would give him a little more insight and control into Merlin.  He’d thought the greatest harm that could come from agreeing to Merlin’s request was the sort of quick break up one experienced after a short fling - something that he could contain and walk away from when they’d finished this job.  Merlin seemed like someone who was used to casual relationships. 

 

Until tonight.  Lying beside Merlin, wrapped in his warmth, he realized he’d allowed himself to indulge the fantasy too much.  It hadn’t felt like work anymore, but like an actual vacation with someone he could talk to about almost anything, who challenged him and who would be his partner in every way.   One who knew him, and wanted to be with him.  Just Arthur.  

 

 But Leon’s call had pulled him back to the coldness of reality. It wasn't a vacation, it was just a job and he needed to remember that.  Arthur pushed away from the door and headed for the elevator.  Why Leon was sending him off in the middle of the night to talk to a professor of ancient mythology he had no idea, but he’d said it was urgent.

____

 

Merlin ordered the dinner, far more than the two of them could eat, then showered, throwing on an old pair of jeans and a worn jumper.  Staying in, no one to impress or perform for.  Just them.  A little celebration, break in the case and all.  He flicked on the television and began to nervously click through the channels.  

 

Nearly three hours later the door opened and Arthur entered the suite. Merlin stood quickly and moved towards him, surprised at the whiskey he could smell on his breath.

 

Arthur stepped away and gestured towards the couch. "We need to talk about the assignment."

 

He nodded, trying to ignore his sinking stomach. "Alright."

 

Arthur looked him in the eyes. “There was another bombing in Camelot last night by the Druids.  They managed to pick up one of them.  She was young, refused to talk for awhile, but they were able to find a connection.  She was a classmate of Morgana Gorlois at boarding school.”

 

“Does that prove something?” Merlin asked.  “It could just be a coincidence.”

 

“It could,” Arthur said.  “But unlike the few others taken in to custody, she was frightened, and a little crazed.  She kept insisting she was part of the Blessed, that she served the inner circle of the high priestess.”

 

“Odd,” Merlin said.  “What does that mean for us?”

 

“She said that she’s an acolyte of Morgana.  And that Morgana is returning to the Isle to meet the priest of the cave who’s returned at long last, the one that’s to be bound to her, to be her paramour.”

 

“And?”

 

Arthur pulled his phone out and pulled up a photo.  “Leon wanted me to meet one of the professors at the university - he has a collection of relics from the Isle.  This is painting of the priest of the cave.”

 

Merlin froze.  Faded and rough at the edges, the likeness was still frighteningly similar.  “That’s-“

 

“It’s you.  You’re the one that Morgana believes she’s to meet.  She’s who Morgause was speaking of when she said she saw you coming.”

 

Merlin drew back.  “They’re insane.”

 

Arthur stared down at the photo on his phone. “It’s an uncanny likeness.  Gorlois said you looked like your father when he was young, didn’t she?”

 

“She did.”  Merlin shook his head, lurching off the couch and pacing back and forth.  “No.  This can’t be happening.  Is that how he was pulled in to this?  Was he part of them?”

 

“Calm down,” Arthur said.  “We don’t know for sure.  But it sounds as though you may have an advantage we never suspected.  If Morgana and Morgause believe that you’re destined to be part of their group, that you’ve been led to them, you may be able to gain the access we’ve been seeking.”  

 

He stood and crossed to Merlin, placing his hands firmly on each shoulder.  “This isn’t want we’d anticipated.  I expected that you might be able to gain an invite to a dinner party, give us a chance to look around, see where potential weaknesses lay.  This is far beyond this, and frankly, far too dangerous to ask a civilian to engage in.  If you want to walk away, you should.  Don’t move forward with this unless it’s what you want.”

 

"Is that what you want me to do?" Merlin asked.  “Join up with them?  Become Morgana’s . . . paramour?”

 

"It's what the agency thinks would be best.  You might well be able to gain information for quicker than we’d thought and we can break things quickly.  You can turn them down, of course. No one will force you to do this.”

 

"That's not what I asked. Is it what you want me to do, Arthur?"

 

Arthur’s gaze was expressionless.  It's your decision, Emrys, not mine."

 

He curled his fist, letting his nails dig into his palm to keep himself focused as he searched Arthur’s face one last time for some flicker of emotion that told him he hated the thought just as much as he did.  He found nothing.  The passion that had been there a few short hours before has faded into the cold focus of the agent that Arthur was, first and foremost.

 

Merlin got up from the couch and grabbed the bottle of wine that Arthur had left out earlier in the evening, pouring himself a healthy dose. "When do we start?" he asked.

____

 

_The skin on his hands was rough with calluses hardened from hours of training and practice, but they were gentle against Merlin’s skin, gliding up his oil-covered thigh slickly towards his hip.  He felt satiated, as though his soul could not absorb another sensation, yet he found himself unable to move from the bed where they’d lain together for hours now._

 

_“I have to leave soon.  The guards will be making their final rounds and I won’t be back in my chambers by your father’s curfew if I don’t go.”_

 

_“Stay with me tonight,” Arthur whispered in his ear.  “The guards will do as I say.”_

 

_Merlin turned, letting his own hands wander the expanse of Arthur’s chest.  “My absence will be noticed by more than the guards, Arthur.  Our days here draw to a close and the elders wish to meet tonight to discuss our return.  Our welcome has grown thin with your father, no matter how much gold we spend.”_

 

_“Have you thought about what I asked?” Arthur said.  “I am due to tour the north for the next year and patrol the far borders, have delayed too long already.  I know that my father’s ban on magic in Camelot hurts you, but in the countryside, things are more relaxed.  You could come with me on the tour.  My father is not a young man, Merlin.  He will not be around forever.”_

 

_“And then what, Arthur? You have obligations here.  You will be king one day.  Would you come with me to the Isle?”_

 

_“If you asked.”  Arthur replied.  “What matters is that we are together.”  He touched Merlin’s face.  “You are not happy there.”_

 

_“I love the Isle,” Merlin replied.  “But we are buried under the weight of the old there.”_

 

_“Then perhaps it is time we both seek to bring something new to our peoples,” Arthur replied.  He leaned forward, his mouth finding Merlin’s and for long minutes, all else was forgotten as they took pleasure in one another.  Finally, Merlin broke away, and laughed breathlessly.  “Yes.  I’ll stay with you.  I’ll tell them tonight.”_

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9: I'm Just Another Soul For Sale

 

“Leon, we have you on conference.  Go ahead.”

 

Merlin watched as Arthur adjusted to the laptop screen, and a face veered into view.  His head was splitting and he felt dehydrated and out of sorts.  He supposed killing a bottle of wine to knock one’s self out would have that result.  Hardly the best way to start out though.  

 

No to mention those damn dreams he only half remembered, but still made him feel unease.  Projections, he supposed, but Arthur’s revelation last night was unnerving.  His resemblance to the man from the cave had to be coincidence, nothing more.

 

“Hello there, Merlin.  I’m Leon.”

 

“So I gathered,” Merlin replied.  

 

“Yes, well, I suppose Arthur may have mentioned me.”

 

“About a million times,” Merlin replied. 

 

“Yes, right, of course he would.”  Leon seemed nonplussed at his surliness.  “We want to move on this, as quickly as possible.  Morgause is due back on the Isle today, and Morgana is traveling with her this time.  We’re sending more information to you and Arthur to bone up on today, and then we’d like you to call her tomorrow evening, take her up on her earlier invitation.”

 

“You don’t think that will seem too much like he’s throwing himself in their path?” Arthur asked.  “We don’t want them to become suspicious of him.”

 

Leon paused for a minute, mulling that idea.  “No, Morgause specifically asked him to contact her in a few days.  They might come for him given time, but I think they’ll perceive his call as a sign or fate or something.  A confirmation.”

 

“Fair enough,” Arthur asked.  “I’ve read some of the materials, but why don’t you give Merlin the big picture.”  He turned to Merlin. “You probably don’t want to know too much detail - I doubt they’ll expect you to be an expert.  But some idea may help you understand their actions and react to them in ways that make them sympathetic to you.”

 

“Carry on,” Merlin replied, waving at the screen.  He was going to have to find something soon, he thought, just as Arthur produced two painkillers and a bottle of water.

 

“Right then.  I feel as though I ought to begin with once upon a time here.”

 

“Leon,” Arthur’s voice carried a warning.

 

“But I won’t.  The Isle’s old, was old even when Albion was a young nation, centuries ago.  It’s dormant now, but centuries ago, a volcano on the island blew, taking out much of the population, forcing the survivors to flee the island.  They arrived on the shores of Albion in small boats, half-starved, but alert and determined to one day return to their island.  They called themselves Druids, and the people of Albion feared them, and what they perceived as magic.  I’ve no doubt those from the Isle knew some sorts of tricks and sleight of hand, as well a a better understanding of the primitive technologies of the time that contributed to this.  But they were both feared and revered.  There’s some record that one of their own was to be married to the king’s son to create a truce.  But the relationships between the groups never settled, and rumors that the Druids would try to overthrow the king led to executions of several of the Druid leaders.”

 

“And that’s why the terrorists call themselves the Druids?” Arthur asked.  “They perceive themselves as persecuted and outsiders, oppressed by the government who refuses to acknowledge something different.”

 

“That’s what we’d assumed - that they’d adopted the name as a symbol.  But it appears that it may go deeper than that. If the information we’ve gotten has any basis, Morgana believes herself to be the reincarnation of one of the priestesses of the Blessed, returned to seek revenge for the violation of the Druids of that time.”

 

“That’s barmy,” Merlin murmured.

 

“True,”  Leon replied.  “But we’ve been able to access some additional information on Morgana.  She was never a person of interest before, but Lance has found some psychiatric records.  She had quite the disturbed childhood.  Morgause has the funds to keep things quiet, but Morgana’s suffered from these dreams and delusions for years, since she was in her early teens.”

 

“One thing doesn't follow in all this," said Arthur.  Morgause is a successful businessperson and has been for years. That's not the sort of behavior you get from a cult leader.

 

“Agreed,” replied Leon.  “The Druids have started to show their hand only in the last few years.  Something may have happened to make Morgause start taking her seriously about that time.  Her psychiatric treatment ended shortly after she turned eighteen, but some of the last records showed that she’d begin to speak of predicting the future.  Perhaps she made a lucky guess at something and Morgause began to believe her.”

 

“She was so quiet, almost as if she were in another world,” Merlin said. “I only met her once, maybe twice, but she hardly seemed the type to be a criminal mastermind or want to harm people.”

 

“That's the thing,” said Leon. “She's not. She believes she's a reincarnation of one of the ancient priestesses of the isle of the blessed, sent to right a wrong. And that's driving everything she's doing.

 

“Leon, is Gaius certain that this is a good idea, sending Emrys in to meet with them under these circumstances?” asked Arthur. “I’m used to dealing with criminal enterprises but I don't have any background working with fanatics.  Should we bring someone else in? Maybe Gwen? She worked extensively with that other group-“

 

“No,” Merlin said firmly. “It would take too long to establish somebody else for me to work with. We need to do this now.  I want to do this and I'm ready.”

 

He ignored Arthur's troubled gaze.  “How do we start, Leon?”

 

“Make contact with Morgause again,” said Leon.  “Express interest in meeting Morgana. They're expecting it, and it's clear that Morgana believes that she's had some revelation about you so your interests shouldn't seem unusual.”

 

Arthur said that Morgana thought the priest from the cave, that I, was to be her paramour.  How should I handle that?” Merlin asked.

 

Merlin felt Arthur tense beside him, though Leon seemed oblivious.  “We’re not certain exactly what she may have meant by that.  We’re looking for more historical research.  From what we’ve found, it seems as though the Druids may have married or,” he glanced at his notes, “yes, they called it bonding, but put the most powerful priest and priestess of each generation together to enhance their powers, and I assume to produce powerful children.  Lineage seemed important from the literature we’ve found.  I wouldn’t be too concerned, but I suspect a bit of interest on your part might be useful in moving things along.”

 

“And Arthur?” Merlin asked.

 

Leon shrugged.  “I think for now Arthur will need to remain in the background.”

 

 

 

Chapter 10: Sing As Their Bones Go Marching In

 

When he first met Morgana when she was only eleven the thing he remembered most was her enormous blue eyes.  She been tiny, pale with dark, dark hair that reached far down her back.  As a teenage boy he hadn't been given to thoughts of etherealness but that's how she'd appeared, almost like a sprite come to life.

 

As an adult her coloring had not changed. And she still retained an otherworldliness to her appearance.  Unlike her sister with her cool blonde hair and sharp eyes, polished and professional, Morgana almost looked wild.

 

She also look disturbingly like the woman he'd seen in his dreams.

 

It was also clear that Morgause adored her sister, beaming as she waved her outside unto the wide palazzo where Merlin had been escorted for tea. The concerns about security for Morgause’s estate had been well founded.  Despite Arthur’s concerns, they’d determined that he should not wear a wire, and after the through pat down he’d been given, he’d been grateful.  Morgause had sent a car for him, and he’d be accompanied for every second he’d been on the estate, from the moment he’d passed through it’s high iron gates, complete with guard.

 

 “Merlin, you remember my sister don't you? Morgana?”

 

Merlin smiled and took her hand.   “Morgana, how could I forget such a beautiful face?   How long has it been now?”

 

“Too long, Merlin.”  Morgana’s voice was throatier than he’d expected.  “I was actually hoping to meet you sooner.  We have mutual friends, you know.”

 

Merlin felt a shiver run down his back. Had they somehow discovered him already?

 

“Really?  Who might that be?”

 

“Mordred Lott,” said Morgana. “I understand you are friends with him in Camelot.  He promised to introduce us at his birthday party.”

 

Merlin relaxed slightly but  he feeling of unease persisted. “Oh yes, Mordred. We have spent a good deal of time together - he's always the life of the party. I couldn't quite keep up with him though, had to leave early that night.  I thought I needed some time to regroup and recenter myself.  And I remembered how much my father had loved the Isle.”

 

There, he thought, perhaps that would lead her in the direction he was hoping she would go some by invoking the Isle.  

 

“Oh yes.  It does that you know.  Heals the wounded.”  Morgana smiled, and he wasn’t sure he’d see the madness in her ocean blue eyes if he didn’t already know.  “It’s helped me so much, hasn’t it, sister dear.”

 

“Worked wonders,” Morgause agreed.  Her ever present phone buzzed and she frowned at the display screen.  “I must take this.  You two continue talking.  I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

Merlin sat for a moment, knowing that he needed to get Morgana talking again.  Start slow, he reminded himself, let her lead the conversation.  “Are you still at university, Morgana?”

 

Her laugh was light.  “I should be, I suppose.  But I’m taking a year off.  What’s the rush really?  Morgie likes me being here with her, and I find it soothing.”

 

He gave his own smile in return.  “I understand that.  I pulled out of my graduate work, just needed some time.  My grandfather wouldn’t have approved I know, always intent on me finishing up, following in his footsteps, same old, same old slog of government corruption and bureaucracy.  Not for me.”

 

He watched a spark light in her eyes.  “Indeed.  We need more people like you, Merlin, who understand that.  The system is broken form the inside.  Only those outside can repair it.”

 

“I agree,” Merlin replied.  “After what happened to my father . . .”  He trailed off looking out to sea.  “I don’t think I could ever trust the Camelot government again.  He was innocent.  I know a trial would have proved that.”

 

“Absolutely,” Morgana agreed.  She glanced into the house, where Morgause could still be seen pacing back and forth.  “We should go for a walk.  Have you had a chance to see much of the island?”

 

Merlin stood and dutifully followed her.

____

 

The suite was dark when he walked in.  He was tired from the extensive walk Morgana had taken him on around the compound, but he knew he’d laid the ground work well, agreeing to her ideas, using the things she’d said as a springboard to echo similar notions.  Nothing terribly radical, but he’d felt her approval by the time he’d been delivered to the car waiting to return him to the hotel.  He wished he’d been able to catch a cab or even walk; he could have used the time to clear his head.  Morgana felt familiar and foreign - as though something inside him was deeply drawn and repelled by her simultaneously.  It left his nerves on edge.

 

He touched the light switch, and gasped when he saw Arthur sitting on the couch, waiting.

 

"What are you doing here?” he asked.

 

"The contact went well?" Arthur countered.

 

“I’m invited to dinner again tomorrow night."

 

"Excellent," Arthur replied.

 

“Morgana asked about you, of course, though she brought it up subtlety.”

 

"I thought she might. What did you tell her?”

 

"That I preferred variety.”

 

Arthur's lips curled up in a tense smile. "I'm sure she loved that."

 

“She seemed amused. It is what I do best, you know.”

 

Arthur ignored his jibe and rose off the couch. "I won't be able to meet you here again, in case Morgause has you watched, and she probably will. We're going to arrange another meeting point. Near the end of White Shoals Beach, there’s a villa that's been on the market for a while, with a cabana structure at the edge of the property near the beach access. Meet me there at 6:30 in the morning."

 

Merlin stared at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry. How am I going to get there?”

 

Arthur smiled. "You're going to become a runner, Enrys. Time to get physical."

 

He brushed past him without another word, leaving him standing alone.

 

 

 

Chapter 11: We Are Not Permanent

 

Merlin sat inside the cabana, watching the waves as they slowly invaded and receded the shoreline, leaving behind a smooth and unbroken line of sand, washing away all the imperfections. He wished there was something that could smooth away his rough edges so smoothly. 

 

He didn't know if he could go further with this.

 

Arthur was behind him before he realized it. He hated that he could do that, be so stealthy, slip in and out of his life without a sound.

 

"Good morning, Emrys. Any news?"

 

He hadn't called him Merlin since the day they'd gotten the full assignment. Since the night they'd . . . whatever they'd done. He didn't even know how to label an experience that in retrospect was one of the best and worst nights of his life.

 

"Yes. I have something I need to discuss, and I don't know if Leon needs to be a part of this. It's a serious step."

 

"Why don't you tell me and we'll go from there?”  

 

“You were right.  Morgana believes that she’s the reincarnation of this priestess.  We started talking about past lives at dinner last night, and I could tell they were sounding me out.  I told them I believed that sort of thing happened, and that I’d even had dreams of a past life.”

 

“Nicely done.  That’s a good touch,” Arthur said approvingly.  Merlin didn’t bother to tell him it was true.

 

“Morgana began to talk about her past self, and then she started to tell me about her mission.  She’s mad, Pendragon.  Stark raving.  And her sister believes every word.  I imagine your father was pulled in the same way.  Morgana fell in with a group headed by a man named Aglain, which was a sort of cult of followers of the old ways of the Druids.  Chanting in the moonlight, peace protests, that sort of thing.  Aglain’s gone now, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Morgana had some hand in that.  She found the vehicle for her insanity and has been using it since then. Morgause has enormous resources and she’s been hiding behind layers and layers to ensure that her sister can carry out this vision or purging Camelot.

 

“They shared all of this with you?”

 

“Morgana says she’s seen it, in her dreams.  She says that I’m his reincarnation, the priest, and that they were to be married, but were separated before they could be bound together.  She believes that we must complete that ritual for the Druids to have the power they need to complete their work.  I’m supposed to be at her side.”

 

Arthur didn't say a word, just stared at him, his face impassive.

 

"What do I do, Arthur?”

 

He finally spoke. "Do you know what prompted this, so quickly?”

 

Merlin gestured to the sky. “There’s a lunar cycle that Morgana says is important.  The next moon has a lot of mojo according to her, and it’s a once a year opportunity to be united while it’s at its peak.”

 

“Has she asked you for some sort of physical union?”

 

Merlin shook his head.  “Not now, and she won’t, until that night.   I don’t think she cares about that, but it is part of the ritual.  I think I am expected to consummate the binding before the moon wanes.  

 

“What did you say to this?”  Arthur asked.

 

“What could I say?” Merlin responded.  “I told her it was my destiny.  I’m moving my things to the compound tonight, so I don’t know that I’ll be able to meet you again, after today.  There’s a gathering planned, a sort of engagement party, for this weekend, and I think a number of the players will be there. Cenred and Alvarr are both invited.  Alvarr’s staying on his yacht, but he’ll be bringing a smaller vessel in and docking at Morgause’s compound.  I’ve asked for you an invitation, along with a few of the crowd from Camelot.  It’s the best I can do for now to get you in.”

 

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was hoarse.  “Just walk away now.  Come with me.”

 

“It would look suspicious if I don’t come back.  Tell Leon, have him work on something.  We still have a few days.”

 

Without waiting for another word, Merlin turned and ran back down the beach.

 

Chapter 12:  I’m The Hand That Will Take You Down

 

Merlin wrapped his arm around Morgana’s waist, feeling her hand settle over his, the cold platinum band residing there icy against his skin.  He’d found it in a shop on the day he’d moved on to the compound, one that catered to the Isle’s history.  She’d been unfazed by the heavy diamond that would have made lots of women squeal for joy, but her eyes had lit at the Druidic symbols of belonging and power that he’s had inscribed inside the band. 

 

The party was an odd mix.  Many of the guests were clearly wealthy residents and business associates out to the Isle for work that Morgause had included, but there were others that caught his attention that seemed to not quite fit.  

 

He pulled his attention back to the business at hand as yet another couple approached. “And this is my future brother-in-law, Merlin Emrys,” Morgause announced again. Merlin nodded, repeating their names again.  He’d seen the look pass over some of the faces, a slight recoil in recognition on the name from some, and a quick extra firm handshake from others.  His best clue as to who was who he supposed.

 

People mingled as the alcohol flowed freely, but the guests continued to arrive. He struggled to keep a smile on his face at all times.  Arthur would be here soon.

 

Morgause had been reluctant to invite Arthur, but Morgana had laughed at the concern, assuring her sister that she had no problems seeming someone who Merlin might have has a passing fancy in before he realized his destiny.  Merlin has assured her he was merely a friend, but one of the few people he knew on the island, and she’d finally relented. 

 

He could only hope that Arthur found something tonight to put an end to this farce.

 

He walked through the door just then, and Merlin schooled his face into a polite greeting, as Morgause and Morgana flanked him for introductions. 

 

“You must be Merlin’s friend, Arthur,” Morgause purred, taking his hand.  “I recall seeing you at Morteaus.”

 

“Your restaurant is outstanding,” Arthur replied.  “I was delighted to be invited tonight and to offer congratulations to Merlin and Morgana.  Quite the whirlwind.”  He gave Merlin a quick handshake, and moved to stand in front of Morgana, who turned back from last person she’d been greeting.  Merlin felt her stiffen as Arthur reached for her hand.

 

“Do I know you?” she asked.

 

Arthur kept his composure, his charming smile never slipping.  “I don’t believe we’ve had the good fortune to meet before.  I know that I wouldn’t have forgotten a face as beautiful as yours.  Merlin is a lucky man.”

 

“You seem so familiar,” she replied, her voice more dreamlike now.  Morgause slipped past him.  “Dear sister, is it happening?”

 

At Morgana’s vacant nod, Morgause turned to him.  “Merlin, can you help me get her upstairs?  It’s one of her headaches.  They can be so severe.”

 

“I’ll help,” offered Arthur.  

 

Morgause started to refuse, when Cenred appeared at her side.  “Morgause, we’re ready in the library.”  He stopped, taking in Morgana’s pale face and hunched appearance.

 

“I have her, Morgause.  That’s why I’m here, to help care for her now,” Merlin said.

 

“You’re right, Merlin. I know she’s in safe hands with you.”  Morgause leaned in and kissed her sister’s cheek, then drew Merlin close.  “She likes to let the visions run their course, but they’re killing her, Merlin.  There’s a prescription bottle in her bathroom, make her take two so that she’ll rest.”

 

“She’ll be fine, Morgause.”  Merlin placed his arm around Morgana, who was now swaying, and gestured for Arthur to help support her.  

 

The climber the stairs in silence, the guards stationed at the stairs giving him a respectful nod.  Morgana’s moans were pitiful by the time they reached her room, and Merlin eased her to the bed.

 

“Watch her while I look for the medication,” he told Arthur, as he opened the door to the spacious marble bathroom and began to fumble among her toiletries for her bottle. 

 

He could hear low murmurs from the bathroom, Arthur speaking to her from the sound of it.  Finally finding the bottle, he grabbed a cup of water and paused in the doorway as Morgana sat upright, her eyes suddenly clear.  

 

“It is you,” she said, her voice pitched low.  “You are the one who stole him before.  You shall not have him again.”  She launched herself as Arthur, her nails catching at his shirtfront and ripping off one of the buttons as he sought to contain her.  Merlin watched, frozen, as Arthur wrestled her in a hold that left her slumped to the bed.  

 

“Did you kill her?” he asked.

 

“She’s unconscious.  What did she mean, Merlin?”

 

“She has visions, Arthur.  And I . . . I have dreams too. In a past life, that Merlin, the priest in the cave, left her for someone else.  Someone named Arthur.  He looked like you.”

 

“What are you saying?”  

 

“I’m saying that while Morgana might be crazy, she might also be a reincarnated priestess of the Blessed.  And you and I may have a past self too, and it’s all tangled, Arthur.”

 

Arthur stared at him for a moment, then nodded.  “Maybe it’s true.  It would explain something.”

 

“What?”

 

Arthur grabbed him and hauled him closer, slanting his mouth across his with a fiery kiss.  “Why I can’t get you out of my mind.  Why I’m in love with you.”

 

Arthur released him and turned to the bed, scooping up Morgana’s limp body.  “We have to get out of here.  You’re not going to be safe when she wakes up, and we can’t risk leaving her.

 

“You love me?” Merlin asked.

 

“Yes, Merlin.  Keep up.”  

 

“Right,” Merlin replied.  “I don’t know where to go.  Morgause has tons of security tonight.  Especially at the entrances and exits.”

 

“What about the dock?”

 

Merlin snapped his fingers.  “Alvarr’s cruiser.  He docked there tonight, but he’s the only one who came by sea.  There will be a few guards, but if I carry her, and you keep to the shadows, it may look as though we’re out for a romantic rendeavouz and I’ll distract them long enough for you to get past them.”

 

"Then we'd better hurry before she comes to.”

 

Merlin had become familiar enough with the sprawling mansion in the last week to pick his way through the back halls and avoid most of the partygoers until they reached the rear of the house.  He tucked Morgana’s head against his shoulder as though she were hiding her face, embarrassed and gave the guard a small wink.  

 

“The fiancée and I needed a little alone time.”

 

The guard gave him a small nod and wink in return, and he continued down the path, cringing slightly as he heard a thud and rustle behind him.  Arthur had undoubtedly taken care of that guard.  Within minutes he was next to him.

 

“Anyone else?”

 

“I doubt it.  There are cameras at the dock, and I doubt Alvarr left the keys in the ignition, but Morgause had most of the staff stationed around the main house for tonight.”

 

“Leave the rest to me.”

 

Arthur slipped off again in near silence, and Merlin continued down the main path, shifting Morgana in his arms.  She was still, her slight inhale the only signs of movement.  

 

As he reached the short dock at the end of the harbor, he could see Arthur crouched in the shadow of the edge of the boat, working at the lock there.  He motioned for Merlin to come on.

 

“The closest camera is disabled.  With just one, they may not come investigate immediately.  Bring her this way.”

 

Merlin stepped on to the boat, halting as Arthur began rummaging in the cabin, opening drawers and cabinets.  “Sometimes people are careless.”

 

Laying Morgana across on of the seats, Merlin joined the search.  “You’re right.  He grinned triumphantly.  “They left the spares.”  He turned to find Arthur staring speechless.  “What is it?”

 

Arthur pointed to the seat he’d just opened, and Merlin stared as the clay like substance.  “What is it?”

 

“Explosives.”  Arthur bent forward, touching the bricks.  “The type used in the Druid bombings.”

 

He straightened and pointed at the small shed beside the dock.  “They’re using this to ferry the bomb materials.  Wait here.”

 

Merlin sat with a thud as Arthur slunk back across the dock and began working on the lock there.

 

“He has you again, doesn’t he?”

 

He turned to see Morgana, eyes open and alert now.  “Morgana, it’s not what you think.”

 

“You nearly destroyed out people, Merlin, in your lust for him.  I stopped you then, and I’ll stop you now.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asked.

 

“You were to be mine.  We would have kept the Isle safe, Merlin, as was our destiny.  But you failed us.  You loved him, the golden prince, more than the Isle, Merlin.  The one who sheltered us.  So I did what must be done.”  Her arm raised slowly, and Merlin saw the gun, compact but deadly at such a close range, held in her hand.  “He tried to rescue you, you know that?  You were already sacrificed, your blood feeding the Isle, and he was too late.  His pain was exquisite though.  I felt it when I plunged the same knife into his flesh.”

 

Merlin swallowed and calculated whether he could lunge forward and wrestle the gun from her in time as her finger began to tighten on the trigger.  Just as he was about to move, the crack of a gun sounded and she fell to the floor of the cabin, blood seeping from her heart and coloring her pale skin.

 

Arthur stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand.  “It’s over, Merlin.  The shed of full of explosives, and Leon is sending in a team right now.  There’s enough evidence to convict Morgause and Alvarr, and I’m sure we’ll be able to implicate Cendred as well.  The Druid Cult will be dismantled without their backing.”

 

Merlin took a step forward.  “Arthur, I-“

 

Arthur met him, pulling Merlin in, hands shaking slightly.  “She may have won before, but I’m not going to let her have you this time.  I’ve found my destiny.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nods to Hitchcock’s Notorious as the original inspiration for this story, and to Merlin with all of its delightful characters.  Title and chapter titles shamelessly borrowed from the Foo Fighters.  My thanks to the_muppet for the excellent organizing of the 2013 Paper Legends.


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